


Broken

by eksley05



Category: South Park
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:02:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 27,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26617162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eksley05/pseuds/eksley05
Summary: Tweek's heart is broken. The one person he cared about most seems to care the least about him.
Relationships: Craig Tucker/Tweek Tweak, Kenny McCormick/Tweek Tweak, Kyle Broflovski/Stan Marsh, Thomas (South Park: Le Petit Tourette)/Craig Tucker
Comments: 7
Kudos: 38





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this thing. This was originally published on FFNet on June 28, 2008, finished on August 3, 2008. It started as a therapeutic oneshot for me to deal with a life thing, and then I got asked to keep going, so I made it a whole big story. The thing is, is I kind of hate it. It was one of my first fanfics, my first multi-chaptered fic, and you can clearly tell I had no idea what I was doing or where I was going with it. The characterization and relationships are a mess, (I write Kenny talking through his parka like this), and I'm just really not a fan.
> 
> I keep it up with the rest of my stories because a) I often find myself referencing it in other things I write, b) I like to have it as a way to look back at where I started vs where I am now, and c) I feel like there is a good story in there somewhere so I keep it around in case I want to try rewriting it at any point. Also, it seems to get a lot of love despite all the reasons I said I dislike it, so there's that too.
> 
> Also also, this was written before Craig had a last name, so over on FFNet it still uses his fanon last name at the time, but I'll change it here so it's Tucker.
> 
> Longest A/N ever, honestly. Sorry about that.

He'd trusted him. He'd let his guard down, pushed all paranoid thoughts aside, for him. His Craig. No, not his Craig. He didn't belong to him anymore. He never had.

Tweek Tweak huddled under his blankets, shivering uncontrollably. Unshed tears glistened at the corners of his already bloodshot eyes, being replaced as quickly as they fell. His flyaway blond hair was even messier than usual, matted in places, sticking straight up in others. As the tears streamed down his face, Tweek convulsed with sobs, and remembered...

... ... ...

His name was Craig Tucker, and he was perfect.

Tweek thought so, anyway. He'd first noticed the other boy in third grade, when they had their epic battle. Tweek had been a twitchy wreck, scared to death of being in a fight. Craig, on the other hand, had been fearless. Tweek could only dream to be fearless; he was always worrying, about gnomes, about running out of coffee...about _life_. Yet, he fought.

The two boys had landed in the hospital for a few days, which gave them time to get to know each other. Craig wasn't much of a chatter, so Tweek usually ended up dominating the conversations. By the end of their hospital stay, they had become friends, and eventually, Tweek found himself the fourth member of a group consisting of Craig, Clyde Donovan, and Token Black. Clyde and Token were best friends, so when they split up into teams for anything, Tweek always ended up with Craig. As time went on, the blond and the black-haired boy formed their own best friendship. Tweek was grateful for it; he always felt like an outcast because of his twitchiness and attachment to coffee. People—Cartman especially—tended to bully Tweek. He was an easy target. That all changed with Craig. Now, if anybody dared to say anything against Tweek, Craig would be there instantly, defending the blond. Cartman had gotten more than a few black eyes.

The day Tweek realized he was in love with Craig, they had been playing football in gym class. Somehow Tweek had ended up with the ball, and in a panic, he had started running the wrong way. Craig, his teammate, had chased after him, trying to stop him from scoring for the other team. He'd tackled Tweek, landing on top of him, and Tweek had felt...something.

At first, the thought that he might be gay had freaked him out. He'd needed three entire pots of coffee just to calm down enough to think the words, _I love Craig_.

Not long after his epiphany, the new kid had come to town. His name was Thomas, he had Tourette's syndrome, and Craig thought he was the coolest kid in the world. Their quartet became a quintet, as Craig started bringing Thomas along to everything they did. Not that Thomas was a bad kid—Tweek didn't hate him or anything like that. Sure, his sudden cries of, "COCK!" and, "Aw, SHIT!" had startled Tweek more than once, but Thomas couldn't control it, so Tweek couldn't fault him for that. He just found himself wishing, more and more, that he could be as cool as Craig thought Thomas was.

When Craig and Thomas started dating, Tweek very nearly had a heart attack. He almost started hanging out with the Goth kids, like Stan had that one time. They drank coffee too...

It was Clyde who stopped him, who gave him hope. The brown-haired, slightly chubby boy showed up on Tweek's doorstep the second week that Craig and Thomas were a couple.

"Dude, you okay?" he asked Tweek, his forehead scrunched in concern.

"Ghh! What do you mean?!" Tweek's voice was higher than normal.

"Craig and Thomas." Clyde looked at the ground awkwardly, shuffling his feet. "I know you kind of have a thing for him..."

"What?! Oh, Jesus! How do you know?! Does everyone know?! Oh, God!" Tweek pulled hard on his incorrectly buttoned shirt, eyes wide with fear.

"Well... It's kind of obvious, Tweek," said Clyde. As Tweek made squeaking sounds, the other boy hurriedly added, "He has a thing for you too."

"He—nrgh!—he does?!" Tweek stared at Clyde.

"Duh, dude."

"But what about—grg!—Thomas?" said Tweek.

Clyde shrugged slightly. "You know Craig. He likes that Thomas doesn't get in trouble for saying the kind of stuff he says. That's all. You're the one he really likes."

"How do you know?!" Tweek didn't want to get his hopes up, but Clyde seemed so sure...

"It's just obvious, man. Like it's obvious that there's going to be a Butters-Cartman-Kyle triangle eventually."

Tweek couldn't argue with that. He and Clyde made idle chitchat for a few more minutes, and then Clyde left, on his way to Token's. Tweek went straight to his kitchen, in desperate need of coffee.

... ... ...

Clyde had been right. A week later, Craig and Thomas had a huge fight in the cafeteria. Tweek hadn't been there (he had taken to eating his lunch in the hallway, so distrustful was he of cafeteria food), but he'd heard all about it from Clyde later. And that night, Craig had come over. Before he knew it, Tweek found himself in a relationship with the guy of his dreams. He felt comfortable with Craig. He demolished his inner walls, letting Craig take hold of his mind, body, and soul. Tweek became fearless. He loved Craig with all he had.

And that's when he got crushed. He'd been waiting for Craig after school, like he'd been doing for the past three months they'd been a couple. He saw Clyde and Token exit the school, and waved at them with his right hand. In his left, he held a travel mug of coffee. Clyde and Token looked at each other uneasily, hurrying over to Tweek.

"Tweek, we should go," said Clyde quietly, tugging on Tweek's arm.

Tweek blinked in confusion. "But what about—nrgh! —Craig?"

Before Clyde or Token could come up with an answer, they all heard laughter, followed by a loud, "COCK!"

More laughter. Familiar laughter. Tweek looked up, freezing as he saw Craig. With Thomas. His arm slung casually over Thomas' shoulders. Tweek felt sick.

"Oh, shit," he vaguely heard Token mutter from behind him.

Craig looked up, then, his eyes meeting Tweek's. He blinked twice, then whispered something to Thomas and came over to Tweek, Clyde, and Token.

"Listen, Tweeker... I mean, Tweek," he said awkwardly. "I'm sorry, but...I can't be with you."

Tweek couldn't form words. He simply stood frozen in place, shaking.

"We had fun, but," Craig lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug. "I love Thomas. We can still be friends or whatever..." He trailed off.

There was a crash as Tweek's coffee hit the ground, and then he was running. Past other kids, cars, trees...it was all a blur. Once he reached the sanctuary of his home, he locked himself in his room and burrowed deep within his blankets. He stayed there, never wanting to go out into world again, sobbing uncontrollably, feeling nothing but the pain of a shattered heart.


	2. Chapter 2

Hours had passed, maybe days. Tweek was a wreck, still seeking refuge underneath his blankets. He'd stopped flat out sobbing a while ago—he cried only silent tears now. His throat raw, the only sounds he made now were scratchy whimpers between gulps of air. He was exhausted, too exhausted to brush away the tears that still trickled down his cheeks, yet he couldn't sleep. A headache pounded against his skull, but Tweek barely felt the physical pain. He didn't feel much of anything really. He was numb. His thoughts came to him slowly, and hazily, as if his mind was stuck in a fog. Thoughts of Craig, of Thomas, of Craig with Thomas, of himself left alone. He closed his eyes against a fresh wave of tears, but this only invited vivid images to paint themselves on the backs of his eyelids, illustrations for his thoughts. Forcing his eyes open, almost reluctantly, as if images of Craig with Thomas were better than no images of Craig at all, Tweek hiccupped. At the sudden sharp rapping of a knock on his bedroom door, he barely even moved. His usual twitchiness had vanished.

His door had opened before Tweek could say a word, or even process the idea that he was supposed to say anything at all. Blankets over his head, he couldn't see who had invaded his room, but by the sounds of the footsteps, it was more than one person.

"Tweek...?"

"Is he even alive under there?"

("Tweek!")

"Shh, Kenny, don't _yell_ at him, for Christ's sake!"

("Well, maybe he's asleep.")

Tweek felt the pressure of someone else on his bed, and a second later the blanket over his head was gently tugged away. He blinked once, twice, slowly adjusting to the sudden bright light. His head throbbed and he winced, feeling the pain for the first time. He let his eyelids drift closed again and slumped back against his wall.

"Oh, Jesus." Dimly, Tweek recognized Clyde's voice close to his ear. The other boy shook Tweek slightly. "Tweek, come on, say something."

"Grghn," Tweek croaked, eyes still closed. His chest rose and fell with each shuddering breath he took, but aside from that, he was still. It was his stillness that was scaring the five boys gathered in his bedroom. Tweek was never still. Ever.

"Dude, I think he's broken." That sounded like Stan, his voice filled with apprehension.

"Tweek, come on, man." Clyde's hand was on Tweek's shoulder. "Look at me."

It took effort, but Tweek managed to obey the command. He opened his eyes just a little bit, and turned his head so he was looking into the dark brown eyes of Clyde. The brown-haired boy inhaled sharply and drew back.

"Jesus," he said softly. "God, Tweek, you look awful."

Tweek did look awful. His normally pale face was red and blotchy; his green eyes were puffy and bloodshot; his blond hair was even more everywhere than usual, some of it sticking to parts of Tweek's face, held there by the glue of hot tears. He said nothing, just looked around his room. Token and Kenny were kneeling on the floor in front of his bed, and Stan and Kyle were standing closer to Tweek's bedroom door. All four of them wore the same expression as Clyde: a mix of concern and shock. Outside Tweek's window, it was dark.

"What—" His voice cracked and he tried again, ignoring the pain in his throat. "What time—is it?"

"Almost ten," said Clyde from beside him. "We would have come sooner, but we thought...maybe you just wanted time alone..."

Tweek tried to nod, but it was too much effort to lift his head. Letting his chin rest on his chest, he managed to mumble a, "Thank you." His voice sounded hollow even to his own ears. "What—what happened?"

Token and Clyde exchanged a look, and then Token spoke. "After you ran... Craig told me and Clyde that he wasn't coming over tonight, and he left with Thomas."

Tweek had visibly flinched at Craig's name.

("I'm going to fucking kill that asshole.") Kenny's eyes were narrowed and his hands were clenched into fists.

"Not now, Kenny," Kyle said, shooting the boy in the orange parka a warning look. Kenny opened his mouth to respond, but then settled for staring out Tweek's window angrily.

So Craig hadn't cared. He hadn't given a second thought to Tweek. Tweek, who had done everything he could to be perfect for Craig. He'd given every part of himself to the other boy, and had treated him like a god. He loved him. And it had seemed like Craig loved him too... He'd even said the words. Was that all a lie?

_"I love Thomas."_

The words echoed in Tweek's mind and he felt like he was going to throw up. Yes, it all was a lie. Tweek knew he had to face it. Craig didn't love him. Craig had no problems with throwing Tweek away for Thomas. Thomas was the one he cared about. Not Tweek. Never Tweek. The blond boy clamped his mouth shut as a wave of nausea overtook him, and tried to breathe.

"Tweek?" Clyde said, alarmed. "Are you okay? Do you need anything? Do you need coffee?"

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, Tweek shook his head no. This scared all the other boys even more. Tweek refusing coffee was unheard of.

"Maybe he should try to sleep," said Stan, gazing worriedly at the blond.

"I don't know if we should leave him," Clyde said uneasily.

"Tweek?" Token leaned forward. "We'll come back tomorrow morning, okay?"

"Tomorrow?" Tweek hiccupped again.

"Yeah, tomorrow. Saturday." Token stood. "We'll be here."

"You guys go," said Clyde, sliding off the bed. "I think I'm going to stay here." To Tweek, he said, "I'm going to crash on your couch downstairs tonight if you need anything, Tweek."

"Okay," said Token. "See you tomorrow."

One by the one, the boys made their ways out of Tweek's bedroom. Clyde was the last to leave. He hovered in Tweek's doorway, gazing sadly at his friend.

"I don't know why he did this," he said quietly. "He cares about you, Tweek, I know he does." He gave a small sigh and flicked off the light. "Try to get some rest, okay?" With the _click_ of the closing door, Clyde was gone, and Tweek was left alone in the darkness.


	3. Chapter 3

_"Please..." The blond boy is trembling, barely holding on to the ledge he is dangling from. Far below him, there is nothing but a black abyss. He doesn't want to think about what lurks in that abyss, or what would happen if he fell. He shifts his weight slightly, freezing as he dislodges some dirt and small pebbles that go plummeting into the blackness. He listens for their landing, but hears nothing. Nothing, save for his own heartbeat, pounding in his ears like a thousand drums. His eyes, green, clear, and full of desperation, stare up at the one person who can save him. It is to this person that he makes his plea._

_"Please." He says it again, more desperately. A violent spasm overtakes him, and very nearly lets go. A strangled sob escapes his throat._

_"I..." The boy with the black hair kneels above him. His gaze flickers from the blond to another boy, who is also clinging to the ledge. His blue hat lay to the side, forgotten. There is only time to save one, he knows. The decision lies with him. Slowly, hesitantly, he begins to extend an arm down into the chasm._

_"ShitCOCK!" The exclamation comes from the second boy on the ledge, who suffers a sudden spasm just as the blond had, seconds before. He accidentally lets go with his left hand, and he swings, almost in slow motion, to the right. The momentum causes his right-handed grip to slip, just a little, but it's enough. His eyes widen as he watches his fingers lose their hold, one, two, three, until for a split-second, only his pinkie finger stands between him and a fall to nothingness. He closes his eyes tightly, gritting his teeth, preparing himself for death. He feels his hand lose contact completely with the ledge, and then a strange sense of weightlessness._

_Suddenly, miraculously, just in time, a hand grasps his arm and yanks him upward, out of the pit. He lands roughly on the ground, but doesn't feel the pain. He opens his eyes and stares at the person who has just saved his life, but the black-haired boy doesn't stare back. He is looking over the edge, and Thomas crawls over to rest beside him._

_It takes the blond a few seconds to understand, but when he does, the tears start to fall. He can't make a sound, he can only stare._

_"I'm sorry." Craig says quietly. He stays there, with Thomas, and watches as Tweek's grip on the ledge slowly loosens, and the blond boy begins to fall._

" _No_!" Tweek's own shout awoke him and he sat up straight, breathing heavily. His pillowcase was soaked with tears and sweat, and his blankets suddenly felt too warm. He pushed them aside and blinked furiously, trying to erase his nightmare from his mind. He tried to swallow, but his throat was dry, too dry. _Water_. Shakily, Tweek got out of bed and slowly made his way into the hallway. He reached the top of the stairs, and was about to place his foot on the first step when he heard a voice.

"No, I know, he's a fucking douche. Yeah, I know. No, he hasn't been. I'm really worried about him, did you see him?"

 _Who was that?_ Somewhere in the back of his mind, Tweek knew he should be careful, but he was too miserable to care. His footsteps barely making any noise, he descended the stairs into the living room. Clyde was sprawled across the Tweak's couch, his back to Tweek, talking on a cell phone.

"I know. Yeah, I know. You're coming back tomorrow, too, right?" Clyde reached behind him for the TV remote. Unable to locate it with just his hand, he turned around. Seeing Tweek, he said into the cell phone, "Dude, he's awake, I'll see you tomorrow." Without waiting for a reply, he flipped his phone shut, standing.

Tweek blinked at him. "Who was that?"

Reflexively, Clyde glanced at his cell phone. "Kyle. The guys have been calling me every little while to see how you're doing. Are you sure you should be up? I thought you'd be exhausted."

"Nightmare." Tweek jerked to the left slightly, and Clyde took the movement as a good sign, or progress at least. Twitching Tweek was normal. Twitching Tweek meant the other boy was alive. He moved closer to his friend to get a better look at him. His eyes, though still bloodshot and dull, weren't as puffy as before, and his skin had regained most of its usual paleness.

"You look better, at least," Clyde offered.

"I don't—don't feel better," Tweek said, his voice cracking. He brought a hand to his forehead, closing his eyes briefly. "I need water." He headed into the Tweak kitchen, Clyde following. The clock on the microwave read 3:34 AM.

"You missed them," Tweek mumbled, taking a glass from the cupboard and filling it with water from the sink.

"Missed what?" Clyde's forehead wrinkled in confusion.

Tweek swallowed a gulp of water. "The gnomes. They come at three thirty in the morning, but you missed them."

Clyde had heard about the gnomes before. Tweek had been scared to death of them back in the day. Every time he, the blond, Token, and Craig had had a sleepover, Tweek would freak out about the gnomes coming to steal their underpants. He swore up and down that he wasn't crazy, that Kyle, Stan, Kenny, and Cartman had seen them too, but Clyde wasn't sure. The whole concept just seemed too...weird. Gnomes that stole underpants? Wouldn't gnomes rather steal something better, like money? Clyde shook his head slightly. Now wasn't the time for debating the best use of gnomes' time.

"Well, if I didn't see them, that means my underpants are safe, right?" he said, trying to get Tweek to at least smile.

Tweek just shrugged, finishing off the glass of water. "Sometimes they get you even when you don't see. Craig always said..." He trailed off, looking down at the floor.

"I'm sorry, Tweek." Clyde's voice was soft, almost a whisper.

"You said." Tweek said, eyes still on the kitchen floor. "You said he cared."

"He _does_ care, Tweek. At least...he did. You should have heard him talk about you," said Clyde.

Tweek was silent for a few minutes. Then, "What did he say?"

Clyde sighed, pulling out a chair from the kitchen table and sitting down. "It was the way he said things. He told me and Token once that if he had to, he'd miss Red Racer to hang out with you. When we would be waiting for you for anything and you were a little bit late, he was the first one to worry. He'd tell us that he was going to go get you, to make sure you were all right."

Tweek lifted his head, a small spark of life glimmering in his eyes. "Really?"

Clyde nodded. "You're one of my best friends, dude. I wouldn't lie to you."

"But then why—why Thomas?" Tweek refilled his glass of water and took a seat at the table as well.

"I don't know." Clyde sighed again. "It doesn't make any sense. There were times when Craig would look at you, and Token and I just _knew_ there was something there."

"I didn't—didn't notice." Tweek held the glass of cold water to his forehead, trying to fight off the last of his headache from hell.

"Trust me, we all did. Me, Token, Kyle, Stan, Kenny... Everyone could tell. And then fucking _Thomas_..." A small growl came from Clyde.

"Maybe I just wasn't enough," Tweek said miserably.

Clyde opened his mouth to answer, but was cut off by his ringing cell phone. Flipping it open, he pushed the TALK button and said, "Hello?"

("Hey, dude.") Tweek could hear Kenny's voice on the other end of the line.

"Hey," said Clyde.

("How's he doing?")

"He's up, I'm talking to him right now." Clyde nodded, though Kenny couldn't see him. "Yeah, okay." He held the phone out to Tweek. "Kenny wants to talk to you."

Tweek reached out and took the small electronic device. "Hello?" he said.

("You okay, dude?")

Tweek coughed. "I've been—been better."

("Yeah, I know.") There was sympathy in Kenny's voice. ("He's just an asshole though.")

Able to hear Kenny, Clyde snatched the phone back. "Dude," he said warningly.

("What?") Kenny sounded genuinely confused.

"That's not what he needs right now," Clyde hissed.

("Okay, okay,") said Kenny. ("See you in the morning?")

"Yeah." Clyde ended the call. "You want to watch TV or something?" he asked Tweek.

There was another slight twitch, and then Tweek nodded. The two boys returned to the living room, where they both sat on the couch. Clyde switched on the TV.

"Ugh, there's nothing on but infomercials," he said, flicking through the channels. "Oh, wait." He backed up a few stations, landing on one of the movie channels. He glanced over at Tweek. "Dogma?" he asked, gesturing to the screen, where the movie was just starting.

Tweek _almost_ smiled. The corners of his mouth twitched, just a little, and he said, "Sure."

Clyde leaned back, reading the famous disclaimer about God and the platypus that came at the beginning of one of his favorite movies of all time. He turned to Tweek, about to say something about the platypus, but the blond boy's eyes were already closed and he looked well on his way to dreamland.

Clyde half-smiled, and turned the volume down on the TV. He didn't want to wake Tweek up—God knew his friend could use the rest—but he also _really_ wanted to watch Dogma.


	4. Chapter 4

Tweek was awoken by the sound of music mingled with occasional clanking noises. Sleepily, he opened one eye to see Kyle and Stan concentrating intently on a game of Guitar Hero. Kenny was sitting on the floor in front of Tweek, and Clyde was curled up on the couch beside him. He looked half dead from lack of sleep.

("Is it my turn yet?") Kenny whined from the floor. Kyle opened his mouth to say something and missed about eleven notes in a row.

"Dammit!" He struggled to get back into the rhythm of the song while Kenny giggled. "Shut up, Kenny!"

"Dude," Stan managed to nod at the TV screen and still hit all of the correct notes. "Yell at him when the song's over."

Tweek opened his other eye and blinked a few times. His eyes hurt, and he had a strange pressure in his head. It wasn't quite a headache; it was more like post-headache pain. It still hurt, but at least it was more manageable than the death-headache he'd had the night before.

"Urf." He'd meant to say something else, but apparently he could only speak the language of Sleep at the moment.

"Tweek." Clyde tried to sit up, but only managed to raise his head two inches before returning to the same position he'd started in. He spoke around a yawn. "How are you, man?"

Kenny twisted around, staring up at the other blond boy, his eyes filled with concern. There were a bunch of loud clanging noises until Stan managed to successfully pause Guitar Hero, and then he and Kyle turned to Tweek as well.

"Hrgn." Tweek cleared his throat. "I'm—okay. What time is it?"

Clyde reached for his cell phone, but Kyle was faster. "Ten forty-six," he said, looking at his watch.

"How long have you guys—ngh!—been here?" Tweek jerked slightly to the right. The movement didn't go unnoticed by the other four boys. Stan looked at Kyle, and Kenny glanced at Clyde. All of their expressions said the same thing: _"He's getting better. Maybe he'll be okay."_

"Since eight," Stan said, gesturing to himself and Kyle.

("I got here at seven,") Kenny said. ("Clyde was dying on your couch.")

"No, I wasn't," Clyde protested.

("You were watching the shopping channel.")

"I was just trying to stay awake." Clyde yawned again.

"Dude, why would you watch the shopping channel to keep yourself awake?" Kyle raised an eyebrow.

Tweek blinked at Clyde. "You haven't—haven't slept?"

"No, I was stay...trying to stay awake..." Clyde stumbled over his words. "In case you woke up and needed...talk..."

"Dude, Clyde, sleep," said Stan, setting his Guitar Hero controller on the floor. Kenny scooted over and picked it up and brought it over to where he'd been sitting. "We're here now." Stan glanced at Tweek. "You want coffee or anything, Tweek?"

Tweek nodded. "Yes—coffee." He twitched again, and gave Stan a grateful half-smile. "Thank—thank you."

"No problem." Stan headed into the kitchen. Tweek looked around his living room at his friends, his eyes coming to rest on Clyde. The brunet boy had finally fallen asleep, as evidenced by his soft snoring. He'd really stayed up all night just in case Tweek needed anything? He cared that much? Tweek wondered if maybe Clyde felt a little guilty—he _had_ been the one to tell Tweek that Craig wanted him, after all. (Unlike people like Cartman, Clyde had a conscience.) Tweek hoped Clyde didn't think this was all his fault.

His gaze moved to Kenny and Kyle. The parka-clad boy had convinced Kyle to have a guitar battle with him, and the two of them were now trying to play a Metallica song. Tweek was kind of amazed that they, and Stan, cared about him too. He'd barely talked to them since... Well, he'd used to hang around with Kyle, Stan, and Cartman back when Kenny had died for that year, but he'd never felt particularly close to any of them. And then Kenny had come back, like he always did, and rejoined their group, and Tweek had gone back to his other friends. He'd thought that they'd just stay separate like that—they were supposed to be rivals, right? Except, Kenny and Clyde— _and Craig_ —had gotten to be pretty good friends, and Token got along all right with Kenny, Stan, and Kyle... That had kind of bridged the gap between them. But still, Tweek had never thought that they would all—except Cartman, of course—be there for him like this. It made him feel a little bit better, knowing he had real friends.

"Where's Token?" he asked, watching the notes on the screen go rushing by. Kenny was beating Kyle by at least five thousand points.

"Clyde said he was sleeping when he called him." Loud clanging accompanied Kyle's response. The poor redhead just couldn't seem to play the game and talk at the same time.

("He'll come by later.") Kenny swung the arm of his guitar controller up into the air to activate the game's Star Power. ("I don't think any of us got much sleep.")

"You—you guys..." Tweek tried to think of a way to thank them all for being there, for caring. It really did mean a lot to him. Before he could say anything else, though, there was a knock at his door. Since Stan was in the kitchen, Kyle and Kenny were in the middle of a game, and Clyde was sleeping—and, well, it _was_ Tweek's house after all—Tweek got to his feet with a yawn and made his way over to the front door of the Tweak's house.

"Probably Token now," said Kyle. _Clang_.

Tweek nodded, even though Kyle was facing away from him. He unlocked the five locks on the door (his parents had installed them during the child abduction scare and never taken the time to remove them) and swung it open, expecting to see Token on his doorstep.

Instead, he came face to face with Craig.


	5. Chapter 5

_OhGodohJesusCraigCraigisherewhatishedoinghereohJesuswhatdoIdo?!_ Tweek was frozen in place, barely able to stand. His hand gripped the doorknob so tightly his knuckles turned white. There was pure, unadulterated panic in his eyes, even more so than was normal. His mouth fell open, but he couldn't say a word. His breath came in short, shallow gasps, and he could feel his heartbeat speed up. He was dizzy. He needed to sit down. No, he couldn't sit down, he couldn't move. If he let go of the doorknob he would fall; there was no way his legs were going to support him right now. He let out a low, pained whimper, almost a moan, and once again felt tears spring to his eyes. He'd already cried so much, how could he have any tears left? Oh, God, tears were water, and humans were made of mostly water, without water he would die, if he kept crying he would die, oh Jesus, but he couldn't stop crying, he couldn't help it, he was going to kill himself and not even mean to and Craig wouldn't even care...

"Hey, Tweek, do you have any..." Stan was in the middle of saying as he came out of the kitchen. Seeing Tweek on the verge of a serious mental breakdown, and Craig standing in the front doorway, his eyes widened slightly, and then narrowed. "Oh," he said, flatly.

"Stan?" There was more clanging while Kyle attempted to find the pause button on his controller. It took a few seconds, but then Kyle was beside Stan. "What's...?" His voice trailed off the same way Stan's had as he, too, caught sight of Craig.

("What the _fuck_ are you doing here?") Kenny had followed Kyle, and he was now glaring at the black-haired boy standing on the Tweak's doorstep.

"Kenny..." Kyle put out an arm to stop Kenny from doing something stupid. Kenny pushed Kyle's arm away but remained where he was, fixing Craig with a look of death.

Craig had been staring at the ground, but at Kenny's angry demand, he had lifted his head. His eyes met Tweek's, just for a second, and then he looked away, at Kenny. He kept his expression neutral as he used his left hand to flip off the blond in the orange parka.

Kenny let out an enraged growl, and would have leapt at Craig had Kyle not managed to catch him by the parka and hold him back. After a minute or two of struggling, Kenny gave up, but muttered, ("Fucking douche.")

"He's going to kill you in a minute," said Stan, his arms crossed. "I'd make this quick, Craig."

Craig's eyes moved over the four boys, coming to a stop on Stan. He blinked.

"Any day now." There was anger in Kyle's voice too, the kind of anger that was usually reserved for Cartman.

"I left my shirt here." There was no emotion at all in Craig's tone. "I need it today."

"I'll—get it." Tweek's voice was quiet, and as emotionless as Craig's. He pried his fingers off of the doorknob and stumbled backwards a few steps, running into Kenny and almost knocking them both onto the floor. Kenny managed to keep his balance, and caught Tweek by the shoulders, saving him from falling too. Slowly, numbly, Tweek made his way over to the stairs. He couldn't stay there, in his living room, with Craig so close. Seeing the other boy made Tweek's heart hurt. Almost to the stairs, he tripped over his own feet and fell against the wall. With a small groan, he righted himself and headed up the stairs.

Stan and Kyle shared a look. Without a word, Kyle followed Tweek up to the second floor.

Craig lifted a foot to step inside the house. Instantly, Kenny and Stan moved to block his way.

("Come inside and I'll make sure _you_ know what it's like to die,") Kenny said, his words dripping with venom. Craig just flipped him off again, but he stayed outside.

Upstairs, in Tweek's room, the blond boy collapsed on his bed, unable to stay on his feet. Just walking up the stairs had taken all of his energy. He reluctantly slid his arm across the mattress, reaching under his pillow and pulling a shirt out from underneath. It was just a plain, black T-shirt, but it was Craig's. It was the only piece of him Tweek had left. He shivered as he remembered the first night the boys had spent together as a couple. Craig had been wearing that shirt. At some point during the night, it had ended up on the floor, and Craig had never bothered to pick it up the next morning. He'd said he would get it "later". Tweek had treasured that shirt; to him, it was tangible proof that he'd meant something to Craig. He slept with it under his pillow, every night, and it somehow made him feel safe. And now Craig was here, and he wanted it back, and it was another part of Tweek's life he was losing. He held the shirt loosely in his left hand, tears blurring his vision. He felt like he was going to be losing a part of himself too.

"Tweek?"

Tweek looked up to see Kyle hovering in the hallway outside his room.

"This was—is—his," Tweek said. He sniffled, holding out the shirt to Kyle. "Could you—? I can't—" His voice broke.

"Yeah, of course, dude." Kyle came forward and took the shirt from Tweek. He turned to leave, but hesitated. "You know, if you need to talk or anything...we're all here."

"I know." Tweek tried to smile, but just couldn't. "Thank you."

"No problem. We're friends, dude, it's what we're for," said Kyle.

Suddenly, there was a loud thump from downstairs, and then the sound of muffled shouting.

"Oh, no." Kyle sprinted through the hallway and down the stairs. Tweek dragged himself up off his bed and followed, though at a much slower pace. By the time he got downstairs, Kyle had Stan's arms pinned behind his back and was holding him in place, Token was leaning against the wall with blood trickling from his nose, and Kenny and Craig were killing each other in the middle of Tweek's living room. All the noise had woken Clyde, who was watching the whole thing. The only one making any effort to break up the fight was Kyle.

"Stop it, _stop it!_ " he was yelling. Craig's black T-shirt lay on the ground, forgotten for the time being. Kenny and Craig ignored him.

"Dude, let me _go_ , I have to help him!" Stan fought to break free of the hold Kyle had on him.

" _No_!" Kyle gritted his teeth and refused to let go of his best friend. "Fighting like this won't help anything!"

"He deserves it!" Token said angrily, wiping blood from his face.

Hearing this, Craig paused for a split-second, his fist in mid-air, ready to make contact with the side of Kenny's head. He glanced at Token, almost as if he couldn't believe that the other boy, one of _his gang_ , had just said that. His gaze then flicked to the other side of the room as Clyde said, "Yeah!"

Taking advantage of the other boy's distractedness, Kenny chose that moment to swing his leg at Craig's crotch. His foot connected, and Craig fell to his knees, gasping in pain. He lay, writhing on the floor, as Kenny pushed the hood of his parka back gingerly. A black eye had already started to develop, and his lip was swollen and bleeding.

"Fuck you, asshole," he said, raising his leg to kick Craig while he was down.

"Stop it."

The words came out of Tweek, who had been frozen for the whole ten seconds the end of the fight had taken. He uttered the same words Kyle had, and though his voice was ten times quieter, everybody in his house immediately obeyed him. Kyle released Stan, who shoved his hands in his pockets and glowered at the still-in-intense-pain Craig on the floor. Token shrugged off his hoodie and used it to stop the blood still flowing from his nose. Clyde looked down. Kenny lowered his foot, and turned to Tweek. He almost looked ashamed.

"I'm sorry..." he said softly, and it seemed like he meant it.

Tweek was getting a headache again. He didn't want to do this, he didn't know how to deal with this, what was he supposed to do? He twitched, looking around the room helplessly. Why violence? Why did there have to be violence?

Stan leaned over and picked up Craig's shirt from the floor. He flung it at Craig, who was only just starting to recover. "There's your shirt, you douche," he said.

From the kitchen, there came the familiar beeping of the coffeemaker. Stan left the living room, and went to get Tweek the coffee he had promised him awhile ago. Craig managed to stand, though his legs looked pretty shaky. Holding his shirt in his right hand, he looked first at Clyde, and then at Token. All three of the boys were silent, and without another word, Craig limped over to the front door and outside, shooting a middle finger over his shoulder as he went. Tweek watched him go, across his lawn and down the street, and then Token kicked the door shut. Craig hadn't even glanced at Tweek on his way out.

"Coffee?" Stan returned, holding out a mug of coffee to Tweek. Tweek took the mug, hesitating for a second before gulping down half its contents at once. It was hot, and it burned, but Tweek didn't feel that. All that mattered to him was the taste, and the caffeine that invaded his system.

"Come on, Kenny," Kyle said eventually. "You should probably put some ice on that eye."

Kenny touched his new black eye with his index finger and winced at the pain. "Yeah, okay," he said. He followed Kyle as the redhead moved towards the kitchen. He came close to Tweek, and stopped. He opened his mouth to say something.

"Kenny."

Kenny looked over his shoulder, at Stan, who shook his head, and gestured to the kitchen. Grudgingly, Kenny left whatever he'd been about to say unsaid, and went to where Kyle was waiting with a Ziploc bag full of ice for Kenny's eye.

"Urgh." Tweek finished his coffee and sat down on his stairs with a thunk. He set his mug on the floor and put his head in his hands. His forehead felt warm. Maybe he was getting sick. Maybe he _should_ get sick. At least that would give him an excuse to not go to school.

"That probably...shouldn't have happened," said Stan with a glance at Token.

"Are you okay, Tweek?" Clyde tried to keep from yawning, but he was so goddamn tired.

Tweek shook his head. "Just want...over..." he mumbled.

Stan looked from Clyde to Token helplessly. None of them knew what to do.

... ... ...

In the kitchen, Kyle was giving Kenny a piece of his mind.

"Dude, seriously," he hissed, pulling out a chair and pushing Kenny down onto it. "What _was_ that?"

"He had it coming," said Kenny, holding the Ziploc bag of ice to his swollen eye. "You can't tell me he didn't."

"No, I can't deny that, but did you even stop to think about what Tweek must feel right now?" Kyle began pacing the Tweak's kitchen. "You just beat up the guy he's been in love with for _ever_ , for Christ's sake!"

"But he pissed me off," Kenny whined. "He, like, broke Tweek's heart and didn't even _care_!"

"Right, and if _you_ care as much about Tweek as you say you do, you should probably try _not_ to make him hate you, or else you'll _never_ have a chance with him!"

_Goddammit_. Kyle was right, and Kenny knew it. He'd just gotten so _mad_. Craig was such a fucking douche. Tweek was amazing, how could Craig not see that? Kenny still felt like Craig had gotten what he deserved—actually, Kenny felt like Craig had gotten off too easy. But—again—Kyle was right. Beating Craig to a bloody pulp, while it was what Kenny desperately wanted to do, wasn't the way to get Tweek to fall in love with _him_. He was going to have to wait.

He just hoped he hadn't already fucked up his chances too much.


	6. Chapter 6

"Guys, I think maybe he needs to get out of the house," said Stan as he came into the kitchen, carrying Tweek's empty coffee mug.

Kyle and Kenny jumped at the sound of his voice, and Kenny looked around, worried. Relaxing as he saw that Stan was alone, that there was no possible way Tweek had overheard his conversation with Kyle, he said, "Dude, seriously, wear a bell or something."

Stan looked at Kenny, about to say something sarcastic, but only got as far as, "You—" before letting out a low whistle. " _Jesus_ , Kenny," he said, setting the mug on the kitchen counter and hoisting himself up to sit beside it.

"What?" Kenny shifted in his chair, and repositioned the bag of ice he was holding to his swollen eye. He winced at the sharp pain. "Ow, fuck."

Stan raised an eyebrow at Kyle. "If you'd just let me help him, he might not look like death right now."

"Or you'd _both_ look like death," said Kyle.

Stan reached over and turned on the tap in the kitchen sink. Holding the empty mug underneath the stream of water to rinse it out, he grumbled something about not caring if he looked like death, as long as he got to punch a douche.

"What were you saying about getting out of the house?" Kenny took the ice away from his eye and set the makeshift ice pack on the table. The cold was giving him a headache. Carefully, trying not to touch his now-purple left eye, he put the hood of his parka back up. Judging by Stan's reaction, Kenny didn't want Tweek seeing his eye.

Stan shut off the water, but left the mug in the sink. "I don't know, I was just thinking, maybe we should take him somewhere. Try to get him to have fun."

"Like where?" asked Kyle.

Stan shrugged. "I don't know. I didn't think that far ahead."

"It would have to be somewhere we wouldn't run into Craig," said Kyle. "Or Thomas."

"Good point..." Stan hopped off the counter. "Come on, let's go talk to Clyde and Token. They'd know where Craig would hang out." He led the way into the living room, followed by Kyle, Kenny trailing after the two of them.

Tweek was still in the same position: sitting on the stairs, his head resting in his hands. Token had wandered over to the couch, and was now sitting beside Clyde, talking. They had the TV on one of the music channels, and Token was absently playing air guitar as he spoke to the other boy.

"Hey," said Stan as he, Kyle, and Kenny reached them.

"What's up?" Clyde yawned for about the fiftieth time.

"We were thinking that we should take Tweek out somewhere fun," said Kyle. "But we don't know where Craig would go, and we don't want to run into him."

"That would defeat the purpose of cheering him up," Stan said, gesturing to Tweek on the stairs. "We figured you guys would know where would be safe."

Clyde glanced at Token. "Well, we all used to hang out in the arcade a lot."

"But most of the time we just went to his house," said Token. "So yeah, I guess the only place that might be dangerous would be the arcade..."

("He wouldn't take Thomas out on a _date_?") Kenny's question came out a little more angrily than he'd intended.

"No, I'm pretty sure they would just be at his house. Especially today," said Token. "I don't think he'll want to go anywhere after what you did to him."

Inside his parka, Kenny smiled.

"Sweet," said Stan. "Okay, so, where should we go?"

"Somewhere awesome?" Clyde yawned yet again.

"Laser tag," said Token.

"Or bowling?" said Kyle. He glanced at Stan. "Don't they have laser tag at that bowling alley too?"

"Yeah. We should get food at some point too," said Stan.

("And go to a movie,") said Kenny.

"You sure you're going to be up for this?" Kyle asked Clyde. "You've only gotten, what, ten minutes of sleep?"

"I'll be okay," Clyde said, pushing himself up into a sitting position. "I'll just drink a few Red Bulls or something."

"Sick, dude, don't drink Red Bull, drink Rockstar," said Stan, making a face.

Clyde shrugged. "Whatever, as long as it's an energy drink, I'm good with it."

"So it's eleven now," said Kyle, glancing at his watch. "If we go now, we can get lunch first, and then head over to the bowling alley."

("And then a movie?") Kenny asked hopefully.

"Yeah, if anything good is playing," said Token. He nodded over at Tweek, who hadn't moved. "You want me to go get him?"

("I'll do it,") said Kenny. He walked over to Tweek and crouched in front of him. For a second, he just looked at the other boy. He still didn't understand how Craig couldn't want him. Not only was his constant twitching and paranoia incredibly adorable, Tweek was fucking _hot._ He was a pale-skinned, blond-haired, green-eyed picture of absolute perfection. How the fuck could Craig have thrown that away? Kenny reached out and put his hand on Tweek's shoulder.

("Hey,") he said softly.

Tweek lifted his head. He looked so miserable Kenny just wanted to hug him. ("We're all going to take you out,") he said. ("We're going to go have some fun, okay?")

"Fun," Tweek echoed, as if the word were foreign to him.

("Yeah, fun. We're going to go out for lunch, then hang out at the bowling alley for a little while, and then we'll probably go see a movie. And you won't even have to pay for anything.")

That did sound like fun. The kind of fun that Tweek, Clyde, Token, and Craig would have had pre-Thomas. And even though Tweek wasn't sure he'd be able to _have_ fun right now, he wanted to go. Clyde, Token, Kyle, Stan, and Kenny had been there for him and cared about his misery way more than they'd had to. Way more than Tweek had expected them to, anyway. They were his real friends. And real friends had fun together.

"Okay," he said, with a small nod.

Kenny grinned and stood, offering a hand to help Tweek up. When Tweek was on his feet, Kenny didn't want to let go, but at a raised eyebrow from Kyle, he allowed Tweek's hand to slip free of his own.

"So where are we going to go for lunch?" asked Clyde. He stretched, then yawned—again—and stood up.

"I don't know. Where do you want to go, Tweek?" asked Stan.

Tweek blinked as the other guys turned to look at him. They wanted him to pick the restaurant? Oh, God. That was too much pressure. What if he picked somewhere that was horrible? What if someone got food poisoning? Oh, Jesus, he didn't want to be responsible for killing one of his friends, especially after they'd been so nice to him. What kind of person would do that? Only somebody awful. Tweek didn't want to be an awful person. He wanted to be a good person. No, he wanted to be an amazing person. Maybe if he was more amazing Craig would come back...

("Bennigan's?") Kenny suggested from beside Tweek, noticing his apprehension.

"Works for me," said Stan. "You guys?"

Kyle, Clyde, and Token all made various noises of assent. As they all went to the front door to put their shoes on, Tweek gave Kenny a grateful half-smile. Kenny smiled back; at least, Tweek thought he did. It was hard to tell what Kenny was doing inside his parka. All you could really see were his blue eyes. Kenny's eyes always looked as though they were hiding a secret, something you could only find out if you looked closely enough... Tweek shivered, and he looked away from Kenny, at his shoes, leaning down to tie his shoelaces. He felt a sudden, strange tickle in his stomach. Maybe he really was getting sick.

... ... ...

"What are you getting?" Kyle peered over his menu at Stan, who was sitting across from him. Beside Kyle, Clyde popped open a can of Rockstar he'd picked up at the convenience store beside Bennigan's.

"I don't know, maybe chicken?" Stan flipped his menu over. "Or maybe a burger. You?"

"That alfredo looks good." Kyle leaned over and pointed to a picture on Stan's menu. "I think I want that."

("I'm getting chicken fingers,") Kenny announced from Stan's left, closing his menu and leaning back in his chair. He glanced over at Tweek, on his other side. ("What about you, Tweek?")

Tweek's eyes ran quickly up and down the items on the menu he was holding. "I think – I think I want chicken fingers too."

("Twins.") Kenny smiled.

"I want steak," said Token. He flipped his menu shut and reached across the table, setting it on top of Kenny's.

"Me too." Clyde added his menu to the pile, and gulped down some Rockstar.

"Okay, I'm totally getting that alfredo," said Kyle, shutting his menu before he could change his mind.

"I think...I want..." Stan chewed on the straw in his glass of Coke. "...that cheeseburger."

"Well, that only took us almost twenty minutes," said Kyle, picking up his glass of Sprite. "I think that's a new record."

"That's the problem with Bennigan's," said Stan, taking Kyle's menu and dropping them both on top of the others in front of Kenny. "There's too much good food here."

"Yeah, I don't think I've ever eaten anything here I don't like," said Clyde.

Once the waitress had come to take their order, Kyle and Stan got into a discussion about the newest Guitar Hero game that was coming out in a few months, and Clyde and Token started talking about teams for laser tag. Kenny turned to Tweek, who was swirling a spoon around in his coffee, watching the liquid.

("You wanna be on a team?") he asked.

Tweek raised his eyes from his mug and looked at Kenny. "Really?"

("Yeah, dude,") said Kenny. ("Us blonds have to stick together, don't we?")

Tweek smiled. Not a half-smile, not a fake smile, a genuine happy smile, that reached his eyes. He'd gotten used to waiting until all the other teams had been made before being picked. That was how it had always been in school. He would always be picked last, even after Butters and Pip. Even with his friends, he'd only ever wound up with Craig because Clyde and Token always picked each other. Not that Clyde and Token had ever made Tweek feel like an outcast; they were just always together, like Kyle and Stan. Like he and Craig had been.

Like Craig and Thomas probably were now. Tweek's smile faded. "Okay," he said quietly to Kenny, his gaze falling once more to his coffee.

("Hey, Tweek...")

Tweek looked up again. Kenny looked like he was trying to figure out how to say something.

("If you need...anything...") he said finally. ("I promise I'll be here.")

Tweek nodded, feeling the tickle in his stomach again.

("And we're going to kick their asses at laser tag,") Kenny added, pointing to Clyde and Token.

Clyde heard that. "Nuh-uh," he said. "We're going to win."

("Maybe you'll beat Stan and Kyle,") said Kenny, his competitive side unleashed. ("But Tweek and I are going to _kill_ you guys.")

Oh, Jesus, more pressure. Tweek shuddered.

("Don't worry,") Kenny said to him. ("We can do it.") He leaned over and whispered, ("Clyde'll probably fall asleep anyway,") into Tweek's ear.

The tickle in Tweek's stomach erupted into full-fledged butterflies at Kenny's closeness, and he shivered again. Kenny had already turned to Kyle and Stan to declare that he and Tweek were going to beat their asses at laser tag, so he didn't see Tweek's eyes widen as the other blond boy realized what the butterflies meant. He'd only gotten butterflies like that around one person before. He picked up his mug of coffee and gulped down the entire contents. There was no way anything would ever happen. He was Kenny. Kenny wasn't gay. And even if he was, he would never want _Tweek_.

...Would he?

... ... ...

"Goddammit!" Clyde yelled as he got hit from behind again. Token, his teammate, lifted his laser gun and pointed it through one of the doorways in the glow-in-the-dark maze. He pressed the trigger, grinning as he heard Stan's shout of dismay.

"You're so going down!" he said, lifting his left arm to high five Clyde. Before their hands made contact, though, Token's vest vibrated as he got hit. He spun around, but saw nobody behind him. He turned back to Clyde, and opened his mouth to say something, but Clyde shushed him. The brunet raised his gun and aimed carefully at a spot near the wall farthest from them. There was a flash of orange and Clyde fired.

("Fuck!") Kenny yelped, ducking back behind his cover of a fake tree.

"Yes!" Clyde jumped up in delight. "That's...what now, the fifth time we've hit them?"

"Yeah, but they've gotten us like fifteen times," said Token.

Forgetting for a second that he was supposed to be hiding from the other teams, Clyde called out, "Hey, Stan! How many times have you guys gotten Kenny and Tweek?" The only response he got was a vibrating vest.

Tweek was crouched in a dark corner, listening to the others yell. He'd fired his laser gun only once, at Kyle. He'd hit the redhead, and had immediately retreated. Every time he heard footsteps come near him, his heart raced, and he scrunched himself as small as he could. Laser tag wasn't the game for him. There was too much pressure. He had to find his way through the dark maze without getting shot, shoot the others without hitting his own teammate, while making no noise that could lead the others back to him... He twitched. _Way_ too much pressure. He couldn't wait for the game to be over.

Half an hour passed all too quickly for everyone but Tweek. As Kenny had predicted, he and Tweek came out the winners, having only lost six of their combined eighty lives. Stan and Kyle ended up in second place with thirty-two lives left, while Clyde and Token had managed to die seventy-three times.

("I told you we'd win!") Kenny said to Tweek with a grin. Tweek managed a shaky smile in return, desperately trying to ignore the fluttering in his stomach.

"Rematch!" Token demanded.

"Oh, come on," said Kyle, taking his vest off and hanging it on the wall. "That was a fair game."

"Yeah," said Stan, hanging his vest up too.

"We'll get them at bowling," Clyde said to Token as the boys paid for their game.

"You wish." Stan shoved his wallet back in his pocket. "I'm awesome at bowling."

... ... ...

"Fore!" Stan yelled, wincing as his bowling ball crashed onto the lane with a loud thud.

("I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to throw them that hard.") Kenny snickered.

"Yeah, I thought you were awesome at bowling," said Clyde, standing up to take his turn. They were on their fifth game, and Stan hadn't gotten any better.

"Oh, shut up," Stan grumbled.

Clyde rolled his ball down the lane, getting himself a strike. "Nice," he said to himself. "Okay, Tweek, you're up."

"Nrgh." Tweek picked up the lightest bowling ball he could find.

("Come on, Tweek, you've been doing good so far!") said Kenny. ("There's only three frames left, we're so going to win!")

Tweek shut his eyes and let his ball go. When it crashed into the pins, he opened his eyes and saw that he too, had just gotten a strike.

("Yes!") Kenny cheered.

Tweek walked back to the other boys. He was proud of himself. That was the second strike he'd gotten this game. Kenny had gotten four already, and that last one brought Clyde's strike total up to three. Stan kept getting gutter balls, something that frustrated him to no end. Kyle and Token weren't doing that bad, but Tweek and Kenny were still winning. In the next couple of frames, Kyle got two spares, Token knocked down three pins and then seven, Kenny got a strike and a spare, Stan knocked down two pins and then got a gutter ball, Clyde got snake eyes twice, and Tweek got another strike, and then four pins. It was now the last frame.

Stan, miraculously, rolled a strike. Of course, his two next shots were then gutter balls. Clyde _almost_ got a strike, but that one last pin just wouldn't go down. Tweek and Kyle both knocked over seven pins, and Token got a spare. Kenny, though, managed to get three strikes in a row, securing another win for him and Tweek.

"Dude, did you like, practice or something?" Kyle said. "That's the fourth game in a row you've won."

("No, it's natural talent,") Kenny bragged. ("Clyde and Token got lucky on the first game.")

"My arm hurts," said Clyde, rubbing his right arm.

"Yeah, mine too," said Token. "What time is it?"

"Almost seven," said Stan. "We should probably head over to the theater and see what's playing."

"I hope there's something good," said Kyle as they left the bowling alley. "Not like the last time we went to a movie, with Cartman."

"Yeah, I know," Stan agreed. "He's, like, obsessed with Mel Gibson."

("The Passion sucked,") Kenny said to Tweek.

"I didn't—didn't see it," said Tweek, hyperaware of how close Kenny was walking next to him.

("Lucky you,") Kenny said with a smile. ("It was awful.") He lifted his arm to get Stan's attention—he was walking in front of them—and his shoulder brushed against Tweek's, bringing another swarm of butterflies to Tweek's stomach.

... ... ...

They'd gone to two movies, but Tweek barely remembered which ones. He'd been too busy trying not to notice how much he noticed Kenny all of a sudden. Or how many butterflies the other boy caused him. Kenny had gotten popcorn during the first movie and he had offered to share with Tweek, but every time Tweek reached into the popcorn bucket, Kenny's hand had been there too. Tweek had tried his hardest not to touch Kenny's hand, but a few times it had seemed impossible not to. Almost like Kenny had been deliberately putting his hand in Tweek's way.

And then, during the second movie, Tweek could have sworn that Kenny was going to put his arm around him. He hadn't; he'd only been reaching behind Tweek to tap Kyle, who was sitting on Tweek's other side, so he could have some of Kyle's drink. But Tweek had _wanted_ Kenny's arm around him. Somehow, in the last twenty-four hours, he'd developed a crush on him. But he couldn't have him. He just _couldn't_. It was _Kenny_. Kenny was _straight_.

All the way home from the movie theater, Tweek kept telling himself that. Kenny was straight. Straight. That meant off-limits, no matter what the butterflies said.

It was eleven-thirty by the time they got back to the Tweak's house.

"Are you going to be okay if I don't stay here tonight, Tweek?" asked Clyde.

("I can stay if he needs someone,") said Kenny.

 _Straight, straight, straight_. "Nrgh!—no—I'll be okay," Tweek said. He looked around at the five other boys. "Thank you, you guys." He twitched. "You really... Just—ghh!—thank you."

"No problem," said Clyde. With a wave, he and Token headed off down the street.

"We'll probably come by tomorrow," said Kyle.

"Yeah," said Stan. "Just to, you know. See how you're doing."

"Okay." Tweek opened his front door as Kyle, Stan, and Kenny started walking down his driveway.

("Can I stay at your house, Kyle?") Kenny asked.

"Yeah, I guess, just don't let my mom see your eye," said Kyle.

("Okay.") Kenny glanced behind him at Tweek's house, but Tweek was already inside, the front door already shut.

Inside the house, Tweek yawned, making his way through the darkness up the stairs and down the hall. He opened the door to his room, ready to collapse onto his bed. He was so tired. Today had taken so much of his energy. He flicked on his light, and froze as he saw that his bedroom window was wide open. It hadn't been open when he left.

 _Oh, God. Oh, Jesus._ Tweek looked from left to right, searching for signs of an intruder. He started shaking. What if someone had broken in? What if there was someone in his house _right now_ who wanted to kill him? Slowly, he inched forward, until he was close enough to slam his window shut. He spun around, breathing quickly, and then his gaze fell on his bed.

There, lying on top of his sheets, was a neatly folded, plain, black T-shirt.


	7. Chapter 7

Tweek backed up, thunking into the wall behind him, all his fears about burglars and murderers forgotten. He stared at the shirt, lying innocently on his bed. Craig's shirt. What was it doing here? Craig had it; Stan had thrown it at him and Craig had walked out of Tweek's house with it. Hadn't he...? Yes, he had; Tweek remembered seeing it clenched in Craig's fist. So how...?

Tweek's eyes widened and he slowly turned around to face his window as he made the connection. He jerked his window open and leaned out as far as he could without falling, his hopeful eyes darting frantically up and down the street as if Craig would still be out there, somewhere, watching him. Like if he looked long enough, and hard enough, he would be able to see him... But all Tweek saw was his empty, dimly-lit neighbourhood, the streetlight in front of his house flickering like always. He pulled himself back inside his room and shut his window, disappointment replacing most of the hope in his eyes. A tiny, tiny spark of the latter remained; Craig had been in his room. He knew he wasn't wrong—how else could the T-shirt have gotten there? Tweek stumbled forward, stretching out his arm, tracing Craig's name on the black fabric with shaking fingers. He'd known what the shirt meant to Tweek, he'd known that it was one of the only things in the world that made Tweek feel safe... That _had_ to mean something, didn't it?

Didn't it...?

Tweek squeezed his eyes shut and tried his hardest not to fall apart again, like he had the day before. But, oh, Jesus, he didn't know what to do. He wished Clyde had stayed, or Kenny... He wished Kenny hadn't listened to him when he said he would be fine alone, he wasn't fine alone, not now, he needed, oh, God, he needed someone, he couldn't be by himself... He shuddered, trying to breathe, trying to focus. The phone. His cell phone. He lifted the rarely-used device from his dresser and flipped it open. He scrolled down the list of contacts, pressing the SEND key when he landed on the name he wanted.

... ... ...

They'd barely reached the end of Tweek's street when Kenny's pocket vibrated. He jumped, pulled out his cell phone—the phone itself had been a present from Kyle and Stan; Kenny could only afford twenty-five dollars a month on a pay-as-you-go plan, there was no way he could have bought it himself—and checked the caller ID. When he saw who was calling, he stopped in the middle of the street.

("Shit.") He yanked his hood down, ignoring the throbbing pain of his black eye, and opened his phone to answer the call. They'd _just_ left Tweek's house. If he was calling it meant something had to be wrong. Stan and Kyle stopped a few steps ahead of Kenny, turning to him with identical questioning looks. Kenny ignored them, saying, "Hello? Tweek?"

"K – Kenny?" Tweek's voice was shaking, but not in the usual, overly-caffeinated way that would have meant Tweek was slowly healing, getting back to normal. No, this was bad shaking, on-the-verge-of-total-collapse shaking.

Kenny vaguely wondered when exactly he'd been able to pinpoint the distinction between the two.

"Yeah, it's me, what's going on?" He waved Stan and Kyle away impatiently as they continued to stare at him.

"I – Craig... I need – I can't be – alone." The words came quickly, jerkily, but Kenny could only focus on one. _Craig_. What the fuck had that bastard done now? Who the fuck did he think he was? He'd already left Tweek broken and miserable, wasn't that enough? Kenny ground his teeth together angrily.

"I'll be right there. Okay? Just stay where you are. I'm coming back." He waited until Tweek choked out a small, "'Kay," and then he snapped his phone shut so hard it was a wonder it didn't break right in half.

"Dude, what?" Stan asked.

Kenny shook his head. "I don't know. Craig did something, Tweek's spazzing, I have to go there." Turning to leave, he heard Kyle say his name. He ignored his friend, walking quickly down the street, before finally breaking into a sprint. He knew what Kyle would tell him. _"Be careful, Kenny,"_ the redhead would say. _"He's not ready, you have to wait."_ He knew Kyle only had Kenny's best interests at heart, and had, ever since that whole incident with that Gregory kid back in the day. But it still frustrated him that his own friend didn't trust Kenny enough to believe that he wasn't going to walk into Tweek's house tonight and jump him. Kenny _did_ have restraint. Sometimes. When it mattered.

And it mattered this time. More than anything else ever had.

... ... ...

Tweek was perched on the edge of his living room couch, shivering. His eyes flicked to the clock on the wall. It had only been two minutes since he'd called. Kenny should be there soon.

Why Kenny? Why not Clyde, or Token? Tweek had asked himself that very question after hanging up the phone. Token and Clyde were the two people in their newly formed group of six that knew Tweek the best, so why hadn't he called either one of them?

But Clyde had been so tired... Plus, he'd stayed over the night before, for Tweek. Tweek was the reason Clyde hadn't slept. He couldn't ask Clyde to do that for him again. ...But there was still Token. Why had he decided on Kenny McCormick, of all people? Tweek's shivering changed into something more akin to vibration, like a hummingbird's wings—the movement was so quick it didn't look as though there was movement at all.

He knew exactly why he'd chosen Kenny over anyone else. For reasons that were so wrong, Tweek expected the apocalypse to come at any moment. He had a crush on Kenny, he _wanted_ Kenny, and he felt awful about it. It wasn't just that Kenny was straight; it was that Tweek felt _guilty_. How could he be attracted to someone else a _day after_ breaking up with someone he'd been in love with for so long? Someone he was still in love with...? Oh, God, he was a terrible person, he was going to go to hell for this, oh, Jesus, especially since there was no way he could even have Kenny, who, by the way, was _straight_. But he couldn't have the one he loved, he couldn't have Craig, either, so he was going to die alone and miserable and nobody could help him, and oh, _God_ , it hurt...

There was knocking at his front door, and Tweek jumped up to answer it, grateful for the interruption. He opened the door and gasped at what he saw.

"Oh, oh _Jesus_ , oh, God, Kenny, your _eye_!"

_Fuck._ Kenny mentally kicked himself in the face for not remembering to cover his eye. "It's nothing," he said. "Really."

Tweek moved to the side to let the other boy in, his two wide, green eyes still on Kenny's swollen purple one. "B – but, it's so, oh God, it's because of _me_!"

"No, it isn't because of you," Kenny said, trying to reassure him. "It's because of what _he_ did and he deserved it."

_Kenny..._ Kenny could just hear Kyle's voice in his mind. "I mean," he backtracked. "I was – it's not because of you, it's because I did something stupid."

"But, but you never would have, if he – if I – hadn't—" Tweek cut himself off with a whimper.

"Tweek, no," said Kenny. "I promise. This..." He gestured to his eye. "...is so far from your fault. You don't need to worry about it. I promise," he repeated. He almost hugged Tweek, but decided against it, instead choosing to ask, "Are you okay?"

Tweek shook his head. "Up – upstairs," he said, moving his head jerkily in the direction of the stairs. "You have to – see."

"Show me," Kenny said, and Tweek led the way upstairs to his room. He pushed open the door and hovered in the hallway, pointing inside. Kenny followed Tweek's finger and saw the black T-shirt lying on Tweek's bed. The black T-shirt that, this morning, Craig had demanded back, from him and Stan. He hadn't even had the decency to ask _Tweek_ for the fucking shirt; no, he'd gone through Tweek's friends. That _bastard._

"Where did that come from?" Shit. He sounded pissed off. He _was_ pissed off, but not at Tweek. He didn't want Tweek to worry about Kenny hating him. Trying to make his voice gentler while keeping the jealousy out of it at the same time, he said, "Did you see Craig?"

"N – no." Tweek twitched his arm in the direction of his window. "My – my window was open when I got – got inside."

What the _fuck_? So Craig thought it was okay to fuck with Tweek's emotions like that? What the fuck was wrong with him? Kenny let out a low growl, glaring out the window. He didn't notice that he'd curled one of his arms around Tweek's shoulders until the other blond let out a squeak. Kenny jumped, looking at his arm as though it belonged to someone else.

"Uh," he said, scrambling to think of something to say that could provide a good explanation for his arm being there. Before he came up with anything, though, Tweek inched closer, and rested his head on Kenny's shoulder. Kenny could feel him shaking, and with a mental, " _Fuck you_ ," to his inner Kyle Broflovski, he brought his other arm up to wrap Tweek in a hug. He just wanted to shelter Tweek from all the pain that he'd had to endure in the past twenty-four hours. He rested his chin on the smaller boy's head and said softly, "It'll be okay, Tweek. I promise."

_Straight. Straight. Straight._ Kenny having his ams around him didn't mean anything, Tweek told himself. Kenny was straight; this was a just a hug. Everyone needed a hug sometimes. He twitched, and felt Kenny's arms tighten around his skinny body. Tweek reached his own arms up, to return the hug. He yawned.

"Tired?" he heard Kenny ask. His voice sounded far away.

"Exhausted," Tweek mumbled.

Abruptly, Kenny backed away from Tweek, ending the hug. Tweek looked up at him with wide eyes. Did he do something wrong? Oh, God, he'd done something wrong and Kenny hated him now.

"I should go..." Kenny said, awkwardly. "I mean, you're all right, right?"

"Can you stay...?" The words were barely audible. Tweek gazed at Kenny, hopeful and vulnerable.

And _so_ fucking _cute_.

Kenny nodded. "Yeah. I can." He looked down the stairs, into the living room. "The blanket Clyde used is still down there, right?"

Tweek was turning pink, and he stared at the floor as he whispered, "I don't want – to be alone."

"But I'll be—oh," Kenny said, understanding Tweek's meaning. "Um." He tried to play it cool. "Yeah, I guess I could sleep on your floor."

"Not – my floor." Tweek wished he could take the words back. Kenny was _straight_.

"...Would it make you feel better?" Kenny asked softly, and Tweek could only nod.

"Okay. I'll stay." Kenny stepped inside Tweek's room, his heart ka- _thunk_ ing with excitement. "You'd better share the blankets," he said, shooting Tweek a half-smile. He sat on the edge of Tweek's bed and pulled his parka over his head. _Fuck_ , his eye still hurt. Whatever. He could deal with the pain. He got to sleep with Tweek tonight. ...Actually sleep.

Not the other thing.

...Not yet.


	8. Chapter 8

_It was a Friday night. They were sitting on the familiar, soft, brown couch, a bowl of popcorn on the floor in front of them. A movie—The Ring—was playing on the TV, but they were only half paying attention; they were more interested in each other than the movie. Every so often, the blond would glance at the screen, get scared, and let out a yelp as he hid his face in Craig's shoulder. Craig would hit the pause button on the remote control, do whatever he could to calm Tweek down, start the movie again, and the cycle would go on._

_It was during one of these pauses that the light kiss Craig bestowed upon Tweek in an attempt to quell his fear turned into something more. Tweek mumbled something about his parents being in Seattle for a coffee convention, and then Craig was pulling Tweek off the couch and they were tripping over each other as they made their way up to Tweek's room. It only took seconds for the floor of the bedroom to become littered with their clothes, Craig's black T-shirt being the last thing to hit the floor. It all happened so fast; it was like a dream. All that registered with either boy was how right it felt, how natural, to be together like that._

_It was later, when they were lying together in the twin-sized bed, Tweek snuggled against Craig's chest with the black-haired boy's arm around him protectively, that Tweek found the courage to say softly, "Craig?"_

" _Mm?" Craig lazily started tracing patterns on Tweek's bare skin._

" _I love you."_

"Shit _fuck_!"

Craig was jolted out of his reverie by the sudden exclamation. He looked over at Thomas, beside him on the Nommel's couch, a smirk on his lips and a question in his eyes. Thomas bit his lower lip and his cheeks turned pink.

"I should probably get home," he said, his voice strained. Craig flipped his cell phone open to check the time. Quarter to midnight.

"It's late. You could just stay here," he offered, already knowing the response.

"No, I – _cock!_ – I told my mom I'd be home tonight." Thomas covered his mouth, still embarrassed by his Tourette's. Getting up, he said, through his fingers, "I have to go with her to Conifer tomorrow to see my grandma. _Shit!_ "

Craig shrugged, getting off the couch too. "Suit yourself." He slung his arm around Thomas's shoulders and led him to the front door. "See you at school."

Thomas gave Craig a strained smile, and with another outburst of, " _Cock_ shit!" he was gone. Craig sighed, running a hand through his black hair and returning to his living room. He settled himself back on the couch and reached for the bottle of Coke on the coffee table. He flicked through the channels on the television, coming to a stop on Shoot 'Em Up.

He wondered if Tweek had gotten home yet.

... ... ...

Kenny woke up first. Sunlight was streaming in through Tweek's window, and there were little rainbows on the wall. He smiled and thought about waking Tweek up to see them, but decided that the other boy could probably use the sleep. He looked down at him, curled against Kenny like a little cat. Kenny hadn't been tired for a long time, so he'd stayed awake, just watching Tweek sleep. He was so fucking adorable when he was sleeping. Kenny was _almost_ glad Craig had done what he did. Almost. He hated that Craig had made Tweek absolutely miserable—that made Kenny want to gouge out Craig's eyes with a grapefruit spoon—but if he hadn't, Kenny wouldn't be here right now. That part, he was grateful for. He'd listened to his inner Kyle and been a good Kenny; nothing had happened except sleep.

But even just sleeping, being so close to Tweek, actually gave Kenny McCormick butterflies.

Yawning, Kenny slid out from under the covers and tiptoed across the room to the door, trying to stay quiet. In the bathroom, he looked in the mirror and made a face. Fucking eye. Fucking Craig. He poked at it gingerly. It still hurt but it was getting at least a little better.

He'd just gotten back inside Tweek's room when the other blond started to wake up. Tweek blinked sleepily, and stretched.

"Good morning," Kenny said with a grin. Catching sight of the clock that read eleven fifty-four AM, he added, "Barely."

"Hi," Tweek mumbled, his eyes still half-closed. A few seconds passed, and then Tweek was suddenly alert, eyes flying open and darting around his room as he remembered who was in his room with him and why. Oh, Jesus, he'd asked Kenny to stay with him last night, hadn't he? Oh, God, what had he been thinking!? _Stupid, stupid, oh, God, Jesus..._ Tweek scrambled out of bed, nearly falling on his face.

Kenny stood in the doorway, watching, an amused smile playing at the corners of his mouth. From zero to twitchy in two point five seconds. He loved it.

"Calm down," he said, trying not to laugh. "You want me to go make you some coffee or something?"

Tweek nodded, still freaking out. Kenny left to go to the kitchen and Tweek fell backwards onto his bed, whimpering. He couldn't believe he'd done that, asked Kenny to sleep with him, in his room, in his bed! For the millionth time he inwardly screamed at himself that Kenny was _straight._ Never mind that Kenny had actually stayed with Tweek—he'd hesitated, and only agreed after Tweek had said it would make him feel better. Kenny was just being a good friend. He would probably have done the same thing for Kyle or Stan or... Well, maybe not Cartman. But still, the point was, Tweek _couldn't have a straight guy_. Oh, God, he was so screwed up...

Tweek sat up, and his eyes strayed to the black T-shirt he'd set carefully on his dresser before going to sleep. He stood, and picked up the shirt, hugging it to his chest. He missed Craig. He missed everything about the other boy, even his annoying habit of cracking his knuckles that always made Tweek feel so weird.

Craig giving the shirt back _had_ to mean something. It _had_ to. But _what_?

... ... ...

"Huh?" Token glanced over at Clyde, taking his attention from the game of Tony Hawk's Underground he was playing. Clyde had been talking, and Token, too focused on trying not to land on his face and bloody up the virtual pavement, hadn't heard a word.

Clyde rolled his eyes at the game, and repeated, "I said, I think we should go talk to Craig."

It was Token's turn to roll his eyes. "Dude, what for? I doubt he'll talk to us anyway, after yesterday."

"We're his friends. At least, we were," Clyde amended. "I want to know what the fuck is up with him."

"He's a douche?" Token shrugged. "You go. I don't feel like talking to the asshole who gave me a bloody nose."

Clyde sighed, flopping down on one of the chairs in the Black's basement, identical to the one Token was sprawled across. He'd gone over to Token's that morning to try to persuade his friend to come with him, and it seemed as though he was failing epically. "That's the thing, though, _why_ is he a douchebag all of a sudden?"

Token made a noncommittal noise and started playing Tony Hawk again. Clyde watched in silence as the virtual character skateboarded around the arena. Token was good at the game; he rarely ever crashed. Clyde couldn't play Tony Hawk to save his life, but Craig had been all right at it. They used to play all the time. Well, Tweek wouldn't. They would offer to let him play, but he'd have a mini spaz attack, whimpering about the pressure.

And then Craig would be the only one who could calm him down...

"You know he cares about Tweek, Token. You want to know why he ditched him like he did just as much as I do." Clyde started gnawing on his thumbnail.

Token shot a look of exasperation over his shoulder at his friend. "So? I told you, he probably doesn't want to talk to us. He'll just tell us to fuck off."

"He's told us to fuck off a zillion times," Clyde said. "When have we ever listened?"

There was silence. Token's skateboarder skidded off his board and across the ground, leaving a trail of blood, as Token lost his focus on the game. He sighed in defeat, and tossed the controller on the floor. He looked at the brunet, on the chair beside his, and shook his head. "Fine, but you're doing the talking."

... ... ...

"So you think they'll start dating?" Stan asked. He and Kyle were in Stan's room, flipping through comic books and just hanging out, the way best friends do.

"Who?" Kyle said absently. He was lying on his back on Stan's bed, his head dangling over the edge, holding a comic up so he could read it.

"Kenny and Tweek," said Stan. "Like, not right away or anything, but, I dunno... There could be something there."

There was a crash as Kyle lost his balance and tumbled off the bed, landing in a heap on the floor. Stan burst out laughing as Kyle, face as red as his curly hair, scrambled to his feet. He coughed, trying to pretend that he hadn't just been a klutzy dumbass, and said, his tone doubtful, "You think?"

"Sure," said Stan. "I mean, obviously Tweek has to deal with his Craig issues, but once he does... Why? You don't?"

Kyle chewed on his lip. "I don't know," he said, slowly. "I just don't know if they're really... _right_ for each other. Kenny's so...well, _Kenny_."

Stan shrugged. "He seems to really like Tweek, though."

"He seemed to really like Bebe, too, but that didn't last very long," Kyle pointed out. "And he dumped Red after two weeks, and he made a big deal out of wanting _you_ for a while, when he figured out that girls didn't really do it for him."

"Too bad I don't swing that way," Stan said with a laugh.

"He even tried for Cartman, for Christ's sake." Kyle shook his head. "I just want... I don't want anyone else getting hurt."

"Everyone grows up sometime, dude. Maybe Tweek and Kenny are meant to be together. Maybe not. I was just wondering what _you_ thought." Stan returned to his comic book, but Kyle kept staring at him for a few seconds. There was something, something in the way Stan asked the question...

_Did he know_...?


	9. Chapter 9

Clyde and Token reached the familiar gray house and stopped at the edge of the driveway. They hadn't talked much on the way over; Clyde had been too busy trying to figure out what he was going to say to Craig. What _was_ he going to say? He wanted to just come right out and ask Craig what the fuck he was acting like such a douchebag for, but he was pretty sure that wouldn't get him anything more than a middle finger, or worse, a black eye like Kenny's. He knew Token was still pissed at Craig for giving him a bloody nose, and he knew he should be pissed too, but he was just worried. Not just about Tweek; he was worried about Craig too. Something was wrong with him. You didn't just throw away someone you loved like that, you just didn't. And Clyde _knew_ Craig loved Tweek, the same way he knew that up was up and Cartman wanted Butters and Kyle.

That's why he was here. He glanced at Token, and his friend nodded towards the Tucker's house. "You first, dude."

Clyde sighed, hoping for a violence-free confrontation, and headed up the driveway, across the grass, and up the steps to the front door. He waited until Token caught up with him, then raised his hand and pushed the doorbell. Three times.

_Ding dong! Ding dong! Ding dong!_

Inside the house, Craig was slumped on his couch, the TV still on. It was the combination of Sweeney Todd and the insistent ringing of the doorbell that finally managed to wake him up. He fumbled beside him for the remote control and shut off the TV with a tired groan. Stretching his arms out in front of him, he cracked his knuckles.

_Ding dong! Ding dong!_

"Fuck," he muttered irritably, reluctantly getting up and making his way to the door.

Outside, Token swatted Clyde's hand away from the doorbell. "Dude," he said. "I don't know if that's a good idea."

Clyde kicked at the step. "I don't want him avoiding us."

"Ringing his doorbell a million times is only going to piss him off more." Token had barely finished speaking when the door swung open and Craig was in front of them. He looked like he'd just woken up, which was appropriate, since really, that was the case. His black hair was sticking up, his gray T-shirt was twisted oddly around his body, and one of the legs on his dark blue jeans was rolled up past his ankle.

"Uh..." Clyde searched for something to say. "Hey, man."

Craig was just about to slam the door shut again, but Clyde, who apparently could sense these things, stuck his foot in the way. "Come on, dude," he said. Craig glared at him, and Clyde glared right back.

"What the fuck do you guys want?" Craig's voice was raspy, more proof that this, for him, was the crack of dawn.

Token shot an _I-told-you-so_ look at Clyde, but the brunet was determined. "We want to talk to you."

" _He_ wants to talk to you," Token corrected, adding his glare to the angry staring contest.

"So what are _you_ doing here?" Craig kicked at the air. Clyde instinctively backed up, but Craig was just fixing his jeans.

"Because Clyde isn't the only one who wants to know what the _fuck_ is wrong with you," Token said.

"Who says there's something wrong with me?" Craig snapped.

"I do," said Clyde, ignoring the middle finger he received in reply. "Look, Craig, you've been an asshole to us before, but never like this. We're your friends, dude, we're just worried about you."

"Speak for yourself," Token muttered.

Craig snorted. "I don't need anybody worrying about me. Especially not you." He went to slam the door shut again, and Clyde, in one last attempt to get Craig to talk to them, said the first thing that came to his mind.

"Tweek's miserable without you."

Craig went still. Clyde took his chance.

"Seriously, dude, I _know_ you care about him. I don't know why you're being such a douche, I don't know what made you pick Thomas, but I know that you didn't just stop caring about Tweek. We've been friends for almost fourteen years, Craig. Whatever's going on, you should be able to talk to _me_ about it, at least."

Craig looked up and Clyde winced, readying himself for the punch he was sure was coming. But it seemed as though all Craig's anger had rushed out of him. The black-haired boy just looked...defeated. He didn't say anything, just stood to the side and gestured for Clyde and Token to come in.

... ... ...

Stan hung up his cell phone and said, "Well."

"Well what?" Kyle's voice was muffled; he was lying on his stomach, digging around under Stan's bed, trying to find his copy of Transformers that he _knew_ was floating around in Stan's room somewhere.

"That was Kenny," Stan started. There was a thud as Kyle's head hit the edge of Stan's bed in his hurry to sit up. Stan snickered as the redhead emerged, rubbing his head, a scowl on his face. His expression changed to one of worry as he said, "And?"

"And..." Stan drew the word out, watching for Kyle's reaction. His best friend started twisting some red curls around his fingers, a sign of nervousness. "He stayed with Tweek last night."

"He did?" Kyle accidentally yanked some of his own hair out. He hissed in pain.

"In Tweek's room."

Kyle stared at Stan, his mouth open. "He – _what_? Wait. What? You're saying he—"

"No, he said they just slept," said Stan, both amused and worried by the look of horror on Kyle's face. "He said to tell you he did listen to you."

"Oh, well, that's something," Kyle mumbled, picking at Stan's carpet.

"And we're supposed to go over there in about half an hour."

"'Kay."

"Okay, dude," Stan said, his tone serious now. "What's up with you?"

Kyle looked up at him warily. "What do you mean?"

"Huh, let's see." Stan started counting on his fingers. "You freak out whenever I mention Kenny being with Tweek, you flipped when he fought Craig and then _you_ were the one to get him ice for his eye..."

Kyle stared at the floor, his face flaming red now. Stan kept going.

"Every time he's gotten close to Tweek in the last couple of days you've gotten this look, like you just saw someone die, and you've been the one warning him away from Tweek this whole time." Stan raised an eyebrow at Kyle. "When I told you Kenny called just now, you cracked your skull on my bed, and when I told you about Kenny staying over at Tweek's last night, you pulled out your own hair. So, I'll ask you again. What's up with you?"

"You sound like you already know," said Kyle quietly, still refusing to meet Stan's gaze.

"Dude, why didn't you tell me?" Stan wasn't surprised that Kyle had the hots for Kenny. It _had_ been obvious, to him, at least—especially since Kyle expressed absolutely zero interest in girls, and he was seventeen years old. But he _was_ surprised that his best friend since preschool had kept it secret from him.

"Because..." Kyle sighed. "Because it's not... He wouldn't want _me_. I'm just...stupid."

"Well, yeah, you're stupid, if you thought that I'd judge you for who you have a crush on," said Stan. "I've known you since forever, Kyle, there's nothing you could tell me that would surprise me."

Kyle looked up at him with a half-smile. "Not even if I told you I had a crush on _you_ , once?"

"Really?" Stan grinned. "'Cause I'm so hot, right? I knew it."

Kyle rolled his eyes. "Oh, great, like you needed that for your ego."

"You and Kenny just have good taste," Stan said.

"Which is why I'll never get him." Kyle sighed again.

Stan shrugged. "You don't know that, dude. You should just tell him. What's the worst thing that could happen?"

"He laughs at me and it fucks up our friendship and I never talk to him again?" Kyle started chewing on his fingernail.

With a nod, Stan said, "Yup. That's about the worst that could happen. So, are you going to tell him or not?"

"Maybe..."

Stan could tell that Kyle was actually seriously thinking about it. He hoped he did, because while Kyle was sure that Kenny would flat out reject him, Stan knew better. That was the good thing about being such good friends with almost everyone around you—people told you things.

... ... ...

"Stan and Kyle are coming over in a little while," Kenny said as he hung up his phone. He was sitting on the counter, beside the coffeepot. He'd put his parka back on, but left the hood down. Tweek was sitting at the kitchen table, his shaking hands wrapped around a giant mug of coffee. At Kenny's words, he nodded, and continued to stare straight ahead.

Kenny was worried. Tweek had been silent since he came downstairs. At least he was still twitching.

"Hey, look, about last night..." he began, awkwardly.

"Oh, God!" Tweek looked like he was about to cry. "I'm so sorry, Kenny, I didn't mean to, oh, Jesus, I was just so—ghh!—tired and I wasn't – wasn't thinking!"

"Huh? Oh. No, it's okay, I just—"

Kenny was interrupted by Tweek's wail of, "But you're _straight!_ "

Shrugging, Kenny said simply, "Sometimes."

Tweek almost knocked his mug over. Sometimes? Kenny was straight _sometimes_? But that meant, that had to mean that sometimes, he _wasn't_ straight, that sometimes, Kenny was...

"Oh, Jesus!" Tweek shuddered, and struggled to stay on his chair.

Alarmed, Kenny hopped off the counter and went around to the back of the chair Tweek was sitting on. He put his hands on the other blond's shoulders and said, "It's okay, calm down."

"I – can't!" Tweek managed to gulp some coffee without spilling it all over himself. "I don't – don't know what to do! I—nrgh!—like you but I love Craig but he's gone but, oh, _Jesus_ , he gave me back his shirt but I don't know—ghh!—what that _means_ and I have so many – so many things in my head and I just want everything to just, just _stop_!" Realizing that he'd just admitted his crush on Kenny, he squeaked out another, "Oh, Jesus!"

Kenny knew there was more to Tweek's sentence that he should be paying attention to—specifically the part about Tweek still being in love with Craig—but all he could focus on was... "You like me?"

Tweek whimpered and pushed his mug to the side, resting his head in his arms. "Oh, God, you hate me now, don't you?" he said, his voice muffled.

Kenny grinned like he'd just won the lottery. He tugged on Tweek's arm, forcing the other boy to lift his head and face him. Unable to stop himself, he burst out, "I like you too!"

"You—ngh!—you do?!" Tweek was amazed. Kenny liked him? For real? He couldn't believe it. Kenny was Kenny, and he was, well, he was _Tweek_. Why would Kenny like _him_? Kenny could have anyone he wanted; why would he pick Tweek? The only person who'd ever shown any interest in him had been...Craig... Oh, Jesus.

He loved Craig. Craig was the one that Tweek had first trusted with his heart; he meant the world to Tweek, even now, even after everything. But Kenny had been amazing to Tweek, and Craig obviously wanted nothing more to do with him. Except, there was the T-shirt... Tweek's head was spinning. He didn't know what to do.

"I can't – I have to—" He jumped up from his chair and fled the kitchen, scurrying upstairs to his room, leaving Kenny alone.

"Fuck," said Kenny, staring after Tweek. He pushed his blond hair out of his eyes with one hand, using his other to slam a fist against his own leg. He _really_ should have just fucking listened to Kyle.


	10. Chapter 10

Kenny was still alone in the Tweak's kitchen, sitting at the table, when he heard the knock on the door. Knowing it could only be Kyle and Stan, Kenny pushed himself up from the chair he was on and went to go answer it.

"Damn, dude, your eye looks awful," was Stan's greeting as he and the redhead came inside.

Kenny shrugged. "Yeah, it sucks."

Kyle looked at him in concern. "You okay?" he asked, tilting his head to the right and watching Kenny carefully.

Another shrug.

It was Stan's turn to look concerned. "What's up?" He looked around. "Where's Tweek?"

"Upstairs. Hiding from me." Kenny felt like kicking a hole right through the wall of the living room. "Because I'm fucking _stupid_."

Stan and Kyle shared a glance, and then they each took hold of one of Kenny's arms and led him to the couch. The three of them sat down together and Kenny leaned back, closing his eyes. Kyle and Stan waited for him to talk. Stan noticed that Kyle's hand was still resting on Kenny's arm, and he smiled to himself.

"I should've listened," Kenny muttered, not moving, not even opening his eyes. "I was just so... He said he liked me, and I just got so happy, so I said I liked him too, and he just...freaked out and took off upstairs."

At the words, _"He said he liked me,"_ Kyle had moved his hand from Kenny's arm so quickly it was like he'd had his hand stuck in flames. He pulled his legs up and wrapped his arms around them, resting his head on his knees.

Stan wanted to just push the two of them together and see what happened. Instead, he said, "I'll go talk to him." As Kyle moved to follow, Stan caught his best friend's eye, shook his head once, and directed his gaze towards the blond on the couch. They had a short argument with their eyes, which Stan ended up winning. Shooting Kyle a _tell-him-now_ look, Stan went upstairs to go see Tweek.

Kyle sat beside Kenny, silent. He was lightly tugging on his own hair again. He didn't understand why Stan was so determined to get him to tell Kenny he had a crush on him. Kenny didn't want him. He'd pretty much made that clear when he'd hit on everyone _but_ Kyle. Even before, when he was still dating girls, every so often he'd come over to Butters, or Stan, or _Cartman_ , and greet them with a sly smile and a, "How _you_ doin'?" He'd never done that with Kyle. Ever. Kyle sighed softly.

"I should have listened," Kenny said again. He turned his head towards Kyle and opened his eyes. "You warned me."

"But you said he said he liked you." It took all of Kyle's strength to keep his voice normal.

"He did." Kenny shook his head, shaking some blond hair in front his eyes like he wanted to hide. "But he also said that he's in love with Craig. I didn't listen to him, I didn't listen to you..." He laughed but it was hollow-sounding, and it made Kyle want to hug him. "Why do I suck so much, dude?"

"You don't suck," Kyle said immediately.

"Yeah, I do. I fuck things up all the time." Kenny gave Kyle a look. "I can't do relationships, I get in fights like three times a week, and I'm going to fucking fail eleventh grade because I suck so much." He let out a tired sigh. "I'd say I want to die but I can't even do that right."

"You can do relationships, Kenny," said Kyle, aware of the fact that, from Kenny's standpoint, his focus on that part of Kenny's mini-rant was strange. "You just haven't...found the right person to...do a relationship with. Or something," he finished, feeling himself blushing. Goddamn him and his hyper-tendency to turn red.

Kenny blinked at Kyle. He'd expected his friend to say something about Kenny wanting to die, not about his love life. He looked closely at the redhead beside him. Kyle had been the first person Kenny had come to when he realized that he liked guys just as much, if not more, than girls. (One guy in particular, but Kyle didn't know that—Stan did, but Kenny had made him swear on Wendy's life that he wouldn't tell Kyle.) Only four people knew about Kenny's attraction to the male gender: Kyle, Stan, Tweek now, and Kenny himself. Sure, he'd always hit on the guys, but that was mostly to fuck with Cartman. It wasn't that Kenny was ashamed; he just didn't see how who he wanted to be with was anyone's business but his own.

Since he knew Kyle wasn't likely to reciprocate his feelings anytime soon, if ever—Kyle was straight, and even if he turned out not to be, there was Stan (he could deny it all he wanted, but Kenny was pretty sure if Stan ever wanted _any_ guy, it would be Kyle)—Kenny had tried to move on to someone else, but it never lasted. He'd relationship-hopped the way most people bar-hopped. And then there'd been Tweek. He was the first guy since Kyle that Kenny felt like he could see himself with—God knew why; Kyle and Tweek were nothing alike. But Tweek had had Craig, and Kenny, no matter what he told himself, couldn't truly deny that Tweek belonged with the other boy. He'd seen them together, Craig's arm around Tweek's shoulders, warding off bullies like Cartman. Nobody fucked with Tweek when he was with Craig. But it wasn't all about protection—it was the looks they gave each other when they thought no one was watching them, like they were the only two people in the world who knew some amazing secret. Kenny had seen that look before, between other people, and though he'd never had someone to share that look with, he knew what it meant. You only got that look when you really were head-over-heels in love with someone...

But then Craig had left Tweek, and Kenny had seen a chance... But he'd ignored Kyle, who'd tried to tell him to slow down; he'd ignored every gut instinct he had, that told him Tweek wasn't rightfully his, all because he was Kenny McCormick, proverbial screwup.

That was his reasoning behind his next move. He fucked things up; why not fuck up a friendship too? In one swift motion, he closed his eyes and leaned over to Kyle, pressing his lips against the other boy's even as his mind shouted at him, _Yeah, good job, dumbass!_

But then he felt Kyle kiss him back.

... ... ...

Stan knocked twice on Tweek's bedroom door. "Tweek?" he called softly. He heard a noise from inside. Taking that as an invitation to go in, he opened the door a crack and poked his head inside. Tweek was sitting on his bed, leaning against his wall. He was holding something close to his body, but Stan couldn't see what it was. Tweek was crying silently. At Stan's entrance, he looked up at him and hiccupped.

"Jesus, are you okay?" Stan came over to Tweek's bed and sat down on the edge. "What happened?"

Tweek took a deep, shuddering breath, and managed to say, through the tears, "I miss – him."

"Craig?" Stan knew it was a stupid question, but he didn't know what else to say.

Tweek nodded, burying his face in the thing he was holding. Stan now recognized it as Craig's black T-shirt.

"Isn't that the shirt he took yesterday?"

His voice muffled by the shirt in question, Tweek said, "It was – here – last night – when I got – home. That's—ngh!—why I called – Kenny."

No wonder Tweek was so messed up. Stan felt so bad for him. All Tweek had done was fall in love with Craig. He was an innocent in all of this. Stan was still pissed at him—Craig—for treating Tweek the way he had, but giving the shirt back meant that there was at least some part of the other boy that still felt human feelings. And, considering the black T-shirt in Tweek's shaking hands, those feelings just might be feelings for Tweek—so Stan understood why Tweek was clinging to the shirt. It was his one link to the person he loved most. And then there was Kenny. He'd said that Tweek had admitted to liking him, but looking at Tweek now, Stan knew the weeping blond's heart belonged only to Craig.

"It's going to be okay, Tweek," he said, feeling lame for sounding so cliché.

"But he's – Craig's – _gone_ ," Tweek whimpered into the T-shirt.

"But you have the shirt back," Stan pointed out. "Why would he go to all the trouble of giving it back if you didn't mean anything to him anymore?"

Tweek's sobbing slowed, until he was just sniffling. He raised his head and looked at Stan, and there was hope in his red-rimmed green eyes. "You think –?"

"I don't think you should give up completely," Stan said slowly, thinking. "I can't promise anything, but..." He trailed off, trying to put his thoughts into words. Finally, he said simply, "I think you belong with him."

"Me too," Tweek whispered, without hesitation. Suddenly remembering the night before, and who he'd woken up with, his eyes went big. "But – but Kenny – oh Jesus, I told him I liked him, oh – oh God, he said he liked me too, I don't want to hurt him, not after he's been so nice to me, oh God –!"

Stan glanced out the bedroom door into the hallway, and half-smiled. "I wouldn't worry about Kenny."

... ... ...

Kenny, ironically enough, was the first one to pull away. He stared at Kyle, his mouth slightly open, his eyes a little bit wider than normal. Kyle blushed again, but offered the other boy a small smile.

"Since when do you...?" Kenny was having trouble processing. He'd just made out with Kyle. Kyle Broflovski.

"Since almost four months ago," Kyle said, shyly.

"Why didn't you _tell_ me, when, when I told you..." Kenny trailed off. He still couldn't believe it.

"I didn't think you'd want _me_." Kyle almost whispered the words.

"Moron," Kenny said, grinning now. "You, Kyle Broflovski, are the reason I quit girls."

"What about Tweek?" He had to ask. Kyle didn't want to be a contributor to emotional pain, for anyone.

"I like him. I do," said Kenny thoughtfully. "But I think...he really is meant to be with Craig."

"Are you okay with that?" Kyle had to ask that question too. He didn't want to be just another home run on Kenny's mental scoreboard.

"Who am I to stand in the way of destiny?" Kenny said with another grin. "Especially when there's an unbelievably hot redhead sitting in front of me right now?"

Kyle, blushing redder than seemed humanly possible, smiled happily and leaned in to kiss Kenny once more.

He'd never doubt Stan ever again.

... ... ...

"So, are you going to tell us anything or just sit there?" Token had his arms crossed. He was standing beside Clyde in front of the couch in the Tucker's living room. Craig was sitting on the piece of furniture, staring at the wall. He'd been silent for almost ten minutes, and Token was getting impatient.

Craig lifted an arm, like he was going to flip Token off, but after a second he just let his arm fall back to his side. Clyde blinked. He'd never in his life seen Craig resist the urge to use his middle finger.

"Dude," he said. "Come on. What's up with you? You obviously still care about him."

_He'd said the three words back, and Tweek's eyes had lit up. Craig tried to ignore the sudden feeling in his stomach—like he was eight years old again, swinging too high on the swings, flying through the air, like he could let go of the chains and only faith would keep him aloft. The feeling of letting himself go completely, trusting that the sky would be there to catch him._

_Tweek, of course, being Craig's sky._

_Things had been different for Craig after that night. Every time he looked at Tweek, he felt that feeling, and the intensity of it scared the shit out of him. Every time he touched the blond, it was like he'd been hit by lightning. He'd never felt that way about anyone before and he didn't have a clue in hell what to do about it. So he started pulling away from Tweek, becoming more distant each day, until finally, he thought it best to just end things. But he couldn't just break up with Tweek for no reason; he needed a way out._

_Thomas gave him that way out. Craig had already had kind of a relationship with him, before Tweek, so it seemed like a plausible reason for him to leave the blond. All he had to do was tell Tweek that he'd thought things through, and ultimately decided that he and Thomas were better together, but that he still wanted to stay friends._

_But when he'd walked out of school that day, his arm around Thomas's shoulders, and seen the way Tweek was staring at him... His resolve had nearly crumbled completely. It had taken every ounce of his strength to walk up to his soon-to-be-ex-boyfriend and say to him, "I love Thomas." To watch Tweek run away sobbing, to walk away calmly with Thomas while his stomach twisted and his mind screamed at him in protest. But he had to do it. He had to._

"I had to..." Craig mumbled, trying to block out the image of the shattered look on Tweek's face...had it really only been two days ago?

"You had to what?" Clyde blinked in confusion.

"Tweek..." It seemed like Craig had lost his ability to form coherent sentences. Struggling to focus, he said, "I couldn't do it. I couldn't...be with him."

"Oh, my God."

Both Clyde and Craig's eyes went to Token, who was shaking his head, a look of combined disgust and disbelief on his face. "You fucking _dumbass_ , Craig."

Clyde blinked at Token now. "Huh?

"You love him." Token rolled his eyes as Craig stared at him. "You're in love with Tweek and you're such a fucking wimp you couldn't deal with it, right?"

Clyde looked from Token to Craig. The black-haired boy's eyes were on the carpet and from the expression on his face, Clyde knew Token had hit a nerve. He looked back at his friend, standing beside him, and said, "Dude. How did you figure that out?"

Token made a noise somewhere between a snort and a laugh. "It's obvious when you think about it. The whole school knows there's something between him and Tweek, right?"

Clyde nodded; that was true.

"So there's no way you can deny that he—" Token pointed at Craig on the couch. "—cares about him. "

"But he dumped him." Clyde shot a nervous glance at Craig; he was sure that talking about him like he wasn't there would piss him off. But Craig, it seemed, was hardly paying attention.

"Yeah," said Token. "But we were all so focused on the fact that Craig left Tweek, we didn't really think about who he left him _for_."

"Thomas." Clyde didn't see where this was going.

"Right. And Thomas has Tourette's."

Clyde shook his head and shrugged, a bewildered expression on his face.

"Tourette's," Token said again. "You know, Thomas can't control what he says, so every few minutes he'll yell something totally random?" He could almost see the lightbulb turn on above Clyde's head as the brunet's eyes widened.

"Like Tweek..." Clyde looked at Craig. "Dude," he said quietly.

"He's so fucking head-over-heels for Tweek it freaks him out," Token said. "So he left Tweek because he's a dumbass, but he went right to the next-best thing to replace him. What I don't understand..." he continued, directing his words at Craig now. "...is when you turned into such a pussy."

Craig lifted his head and glared at Token, but kept silent, and it was his silence that provided all the confirmation Clyde and Token needed.

"Dude," Clyde said again, in the same quiet tone as before. "You need to go talk to him."

"I was going to," Craig muttered. "Yesterday. But you were there."

"So what, you were just going to give up?" Clyde couldn't stop himself. "If you really do love Tweek, isn't that worth it?"

It took a few minutes for Craig to respond.

" _Craig?"  
_ " _Mm?"  
_ " _I love you."  
_ " _... I love you too, Tweeker."_

It hadn't been a lie. Craig loved Tweek, with every bit of his soul. Token had been right, about everything. And Clyde was right too. Craig had to talk to Tweek. No more lying, no more running, no more being afraid. But he was going to try to do it the right way this time; he had to talk to Thomas first.

"Tomorrow," Craig said finally. "I'll talk to him tomorrow, at school."

Token opened his mouth angrily, but Clyde shushed him. He didn't want to push too hard. Getting Craig to admit as much as he had already had been nothing short of miraculous; if Token hadn't figured it out, Clyde was willing to bet Craig would've tried to feed them some lame, half-assed lie. And at least Craig had said he would talk to Tweek.

Clyde couldn't wait to see what happened tomorrow...


	11. Chapter 11

Token left Craig's house not long after, he and Clyde first promising to keep quiet about Craig's vow to talk to Tweek. Clyde hung back, but Token was too frustrated with Craig's "dumbassness" (as he put it) to stay around him much longer. He told Clyde he'd meet him at Tweek's and left, muttering things under his breath.

Craig turned the TV back on and started going through the channels. Clyde sat beside him on the couch without waiting for an invitation; he was pretty sure, now, that he was going to leave the Tucker house unharmed. There was no question that of the two of them, Tweek looked worse, but Craig's appearance was far from perfect as well. His eyes weren't red the way Tweek's were; crying wasn't Craig's thing, Clyde knew. But there were dark circles under Craig's eyes, and his shoulders were slumped, like something heavy was pushing down on him from above. He just looked less like _Craig_. He'd lost his self-assured-to-the-point-of-being-an-arrogant-asshole cockiness, though he'd done a damn good job of faking it. But looking at Craig now, as he sunk into the couch and pointed the remote control at the television, all Clyde saw, surrounding his friend, was misery.

"You know we're going to Tweek's," he said, hesitantly. "You could come too."

Craig shook his head, his eyes never leaving the TV screen, and said flatly, "I'll talk to him tomorrow."

"But—"

"I have to tell Thomas," Craig interrupted. He gripped the remote control so hard Clyde could see his hand turning white from the pressure.

"Oh," Clyde said intelligently. Then, "Do you, you know... Do you like him, like, _that_ , really?"

Craig didn't answer. Clyde chewed on his thumbnail, grateful that at least he hadn't gotten punched for asking the question. The room was silent except for the millisecond-long sound clips that escaped the TV as the channels sped by.

"He was safe."

Clyde glanced sideways at Craig, unsure if he'd actually heard him say something or if he'd imagined it. Craig's expression was neutral, and Clyde was about to conclude that he was just insane, and hearing voices in his head, when Craig spoke again.

"I had control. I don't—didn't—have control, with Tweeker."

Clyde nodded slowly, noticing Craig's use of his special nickname for their blond friend. "You really love him, don't you?"

The shadow of a smirk crossed Craig's lips, and he almost looked like himself again, but just for a second. He didn't answer the question, but he didn't have to; the answer was obvious. When he turned his head to look at Clyde, the brunet was shocked at the vulnerability in Craig's eyes. It freaked him out. Craig was the toughest guy Clyde had ever known; the weakness he saw in his friend's eyes was unnatural.

"I'm a dumbass."

Clyde stayed quiet, sensing that Craig had something else he wanted to say.

"He might not want to talk to me."

Now Clyde gave Craig a look of incredulity. "Dude, you serious?"

Craig shrugged. ""I wouldn't want to talk to me."

"You _are_ a dumbass." Clyde shook his head. "Tweek would do _anything_ to have you back, man. You didn't see him yesterday."

Silence again. Craig set the remote control down, having settled on watching an old Seinfeld rerun. Clyde looked from his friend to the TV, and sighed, leaning back on the couch. He stayed with Craig until the episode was over, and then he stood and walked over to the front door. Just as he was about to leave, he heard Craig say, "Hey."

Clyde glanced over. Craig was looking at him. The black-haired boy nodded slightly and said, "Thanks, man."

Clyde nodded back, and left the house. He felt awful for both of his friends, although a part of him still wanted to kick Craig for letting Tweek suffer for Craig's fear. The two boys obviously needed each other. Not being together made both of them lose pieces of themselves, the pieces that made them who they were. Craig just wasn't Craig without his twitching blond, and Tweek needed the black-haired boy more than the coffee he drank religiously.

Pulling out his cell phone to call Token and let him know he was on his way, Clyde looked up at the sky and wished that time would hurry up and make it tomorrow already.

... ... ...

Tweek followed Stan downstairs. Stan had suggested they go down and watch TV for awhile while they waited for Token and Clyde. He was still holding the black T-shirt, and so lost in thoughts of Craig that he ran right into Stan at the bottom of the stairs.

"Ngh!" He almost fell backwards. "Oh, Jesus, I'm sorry!"

Stan hadn't even noticed. He was too busy grinning at Kenny and Kyle on the couch, who had jumped away from each other at Tweek's shout. Kyle was blushing like crazy, but Kenny just smiled happily and said, "Hey, guys." He reached over and pulled Kyle closer to him, ruffling the redhead's curls.

"Smooth." Stan raised an eyebrow at Kyle, who refused to look him in the eye for longer than half a second. He snickered, then glanced behind him and Tweek; the blond was staring at Kenny and Kyle with wide eyes. "I told you Kenny would be fine."

Tweek's gaze moved quickly from Kenny to Kyle and back again. They were together now? Really? He'd been surprised enough by Kenny's not-entirely-straightness, but _Kyle_? It had been two days, and already almost everything familiar in Tweek's life had been turned upside down. He felt like he should care more than he did that Kenny had Kyle now; that he should be more jealous, but he wasn't. He'd liked Kenny, really, he had, but... Kenny wasn't Craig. Nobody could replace Craig. If Tweek couldn't have him...he'd rather be alone, and miserable. He hugged the T-shirt to his chest. Kenny looked at him, a question in his blue eyes, and Tweek nodded, somehow managing a small smile. Kenny smiled back. Yes, Tweek was okay with Kenny being with Kyle. Judging by the way Kyle looked at Kenny, that was the way it was supposed to be.

Token interrupted the moment by arriving then, and knocking on the door. At the news of Kyle and Kenny's newfound togetherness, he just smiled and shook his head, in an _oh-Kenny,_ sort of way.

"Clyde's on his way," he said. "He was just...finishing doing the dishes. But he should be here soon."

"Okay." Stan started to move towards the couch, but Token caught his eye and nodded in the direction of the kitchen. Stan blinked.

"I'm going to go get a drink. You want some coffee, Tweek?" Token asked.

"Yes – yes, please." Tweek twitched, nearly falling, and sat down on the stairs.

"Uh," said Stan as Token passed him, on his way to the kitchen. "I'm getting a drink too. You guys want anything?" he asked Kenny and Kyle. They both shook their heads. Stan shrugged and followed Token.

The other boy was pouring water into the Tweak's coffee machine. Stan opened the fridge and grabbed a can of Coke. Popping it open he said, "'Kay, so what's up?"

"Clyde and I went to Craig's," Token said quietly.

"What?" Stan set the Coke down on the table with a thunk. "What happened?"

"He's pretty fucked up," said Token, rolling his eyes. "But so not over Tweek." Keeping his voice down so Tweek wouldn't hear him from the other room, he told Stan about his and Clyde's discovery about Craig's true feelings.

"Wow," said Stan when Token had finished. "Craig was scared?"

"Yeah, I know." Token flicked the switch that would turn the coffeemaker on.

"You think he'll actually talk to him tomorrow?"

Token crossed the room to the fridge and pulled out a drink for himself, a can of Sprite. Stan had that tone... "You have an idea?"

"I think I just might." Stan studied the Coke can absently, lost in his own thoughts. "Grab Kyle and Kenny. We'll need them for this."

... ... ...

Craig flipped his cell phone open and stared at the screen for a few minutes. He sighed, locating the number in his list of contacts and pushing the SEND key. Four rings, and then someone picked up.

"Hello?"

"Hey."

"Craig? _Shit!_ " Thomas blurted out on the other end of the line.

"Yeah. What time are you getting back tonight?"

"I – _cock!_ – I don't know. Seven?" His voice was muffled.

Craig stared up at his ceiling. He could almost see Thomas covering his mouth. "Can you come over later?"

There was a pause, and then Thomas said hesitantly, "I don't know if—"

"I just need to talk to you," said Craig, knowing what Thomas thought he wanted.

"Oh. Well – _shit!_ – I guess I could."

"See you later." Craig hung up without waiting for Thomas's reply. In the back of his mind he knew he should be more concerned about what he was going to say to the other boy, how to explain things to him without being an asshole, but the only person he could think about was Tweek. Little monsoons started churning around in his stomach as he pictured his jittery caffeine-dependent blond. Yes, his. Tweek belonged to him, and he belonged to Tweek. As much as the idea of giving himself completely to someone else freaked him out, he knew that it was true. He'd fucked that up and it was the only thing in his life he ever regretted doing.

But he was going to fix it. No matter what it took.


	12. Chapter 12

It was seven thirty when Thomas arrived at Craig's house. Craig let him in, and after half-heartedly offering him some food or something to drink, led the other boy into the living room. He sprawled across the same couch he'd been attached to all day—almost all weekend—while Thomas stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, looking around uncertainly. He opened his mouth to say something, but all that came out was, "Fu – _fuck!_ " He clamped his mouth shut, looking like he was about to cry.

"You can sit," Craig said, looking from Thomas to the open spot on the couch beside him. Thomas blushed but sat down on the edge of the couch. He looked so uncomfortable; Craig wasn't sure if it was just embarrassment about his Tourette's, or if it was something else. He watched the other boy for a minute, and thought about just how alike Thomas and Tweek really were. Their names both started with T, they were both almost unhealthily skinny, both blond—though Thomas's hair was a darker blond than Tweek's—both had green eyes... When Craig closed his eyes it was easy to pretend he was with the caffeinated one, not the one who legitimately had a disease.

" _Shit!_ "

It really was the Tourette's that had attracted Craig to Thomas at first. They were sitting in English class and Mr. Garrison (who had followed the kids to high school, for reasons none of them could ever understand) had asked Butters the most random question he'd ever come up with...

" _All right, now, Butters. Let's say Antony hadn't been such a pussy, and he'd married Cleopatra and they'd gone on to have twelve children." Mr. Garrison drew an accompanying diagram on the board, little stick children shooting out of a taller stick figure that he labelled CLEO. Beside her he drew a shorter stick man labelled ANTONY (pussy)._

" _Now let's say that Cleopatra, being the hot piece of ass she is, decides that pussy Antony isn't really doing it for her, and she goes and has an affair with Octavius." He drew a second stick man holding what were supposed to be flowers, but just looked like lines, and wrote OCTAVIUS underneath him. "And then Antony finds out and demands a divorce from his cheating whore of a wife. Who do you think would win in court?"_

_Butters looked around at the classroom. "Oh, jeez. Well, uh—"_

" _COCK!"_

_Everyone's eyes went to the new kid, Thomas, who sunk lower in his seat, his cheeks flaming, and covered his mouth with both hands. Cartman grinned, an evil glint in his eye, anticipating the moment where someone other than him would suffer Mr. Garrison's wrath._

_But Mr. Garrison just waited until Thomas had composed himself, and continued like nothing had ever happened. Butters stumbled through an answer, saying that Cleopatra would win because she's a mommy and she needs to be there for her kids, so she needs the money more. This prompted Mr. Garrison to go on a rant about women using their "pathetic excuse of motherhood to weasel every dime they can out of men." There were at least five more interruptions, three of them due to Thomas's Tourette's, and two of them because Cartman and Kyle started arguing about God only knew what. Thomas was the only one who didn't get in trouble, no matter what awful thing came out of his mouth, and Craig was so jealous..._

That was really all it had been. Craig was a bigger fan of Thomas's disease than he was of Thomas himself. He didn't _not_ like Thomas, it was just that he'd never really taken the time to look past the disease and get to know _him_ , even when they were in their semi-relationship months ago.

God, he really was a douche. Well, that's what he was going to stop doing, right now. He coughed, clearing his throat.

"Thomas..." he started.

Thomas shook his head. " _Cock!_ Ugh," he groaned, running his hands through his hair. "Craig, you don't – aw, _shit!_ – have to do this."

Caught off guard, Craig blinked. "Huh?"

"I was there on Friday, too," said Thomas, crossing his arms. He looked at Craig and shrugged slightly. "You – _bitch_ fuck! – need him. Not me."

"Fuck." Craig leaned back and covered his eyes with one hand, letting out a loud sigh. It should piss him off that everybody seemed to know his life better than he did, but he was glad, in a way. It did make things a hell of a lot easier.

"You'll – _sh—_ ugh!" Thomas managed to muffle the rest of his outburst with his hands, and then he tried again. "You'll go back to him, won't you?"

Craig nodded slowly, his hand still over his eyes. "Yeah," he said. "I will."

_I have to._

_... ... ..._

"Okay, you guys ready?" Stan asked the four guys assembled around him. He, Kyle, Kenny, Clyde, and Token were standing outside their high school. It was Monday morning, seven AM. They'd all gotten to school extra early so they could carry out the first part of Stan's epic plan. Nobody was ever here this early except for the nerds and the ugly kids. It was the perfect time.

"Wait," said Clyde, glancing at Kyle and Kenny. "This all depends on you guys being able to pull it off."

Kyle smiled affectionately at Kenny. "Don't worry," he said to Clyde. "Kenny has amazing skills."

"I'll bet," Stan said with a raised eyebrow. Kyle blushed, and punched Stan's arm lightly. His best friend just laughed.

"Okay, so, all we have to do it sneak this into the office?" Token held up a piece of paper and pointed to himself and Clyde.

Stan nodded. "Yeah, make sure it's on top of the pile."

"And we're in charge of the room," Kyle said, sliding an arm around Kenny's waist.

"And I'm your lookout." Stan grinned, and said, "Let's do this."

... ... ...

Tweek kept his head down as he scurried through the crowded hallways. He had his backpack over his right shoulder, and a travel mug full of coffee in his left hand. He hadn't gotten much sleep the night before again; he was too afraid of going to school. He knew he was going to see Craig with Thomas, and he knew that he wouldn't be able to handle it. It wasn't just that though; it was the whispers. He heard them, swirling around him...

" _He dumped him for the other one, did you hear?"_

" _Yeah, on Friday."_

" _He must be miserable."_

" _Should we talk to him? Is he okay?"_

" _Just leave him alone."_

" _They were never going to last anyway."_

Tweek stopped in the middle of the hallway. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to cry, knowing that crying in high school makes you a bigger target. He'd lost Craig, he'd lost his only protection, he didn't need to draw more attention to himself. He felt people move around him, and stumbled, almost dropping his coffee. The whispers kept coming, faster and faster, invading his mind, and he wanted to just collapse on the floor and scream at them to _stop_ , just stop...

"Well, well."

Tweek's heart plummeted and he felt sick. There was only one person in the school that could ever have that much evilness in his tone. Slowly he opened his eyes, gaze still on the floor, and backed up. It was only when he hit a row of lockers, forcing him to stop, that he looked up, into the eyes of Eric Cartman. He pressed himself against the lockers, shaking. If there was anybody who took joy in the misery of others, it was Cartman. He hadn't changed at all since elementary school, unless you count getting way, way more awful.

"Where's your bodyguard?" Cartman snickered. "Oh, that's right, he dumped you. Guess you just weren't enough of a _man_ for him."

Tweek whimpered, fighting back tears, but he was so tired, oh God, he couldn't help himself, he was going to cry, and Cartman was right there in front of him, he was going to cry in front of Cartman and he was so scared...

"Hi, Craig!"

Tweek looked around the halls frantically and Cartman spun around at Kenny's voice, but all either of them saw was the blond boy in the orange parka smiling innocently at them.

"Sorry." Kyle's voice came from beside Tweek and he jumped, twitching his head to look at the redhead.

"The thought of Craig scares the shit out of Fatass," Kyle said, taking Tweek by the arm and leading him away from Cartman quickly. "It was the only thing we could think of that fast."

"Thank – you," Tweek said, raising his travel mug to his lips, his heart racing. He gulped some coffee and tried to calm himself down as he and Kyle came to their first class, English. Token, Clyde, and Stan were already seated, in their usual spots in the aisle across from Tweek. The blond fell into his seat, and Kyle took his place beside him and in front of Stan. Tweek, having finished off his coffee, crossed his arms on his desk and rested his head on them, closing his eyes. A few minutes later, Kenny strolled inside the classroom looking entirely too pleased with himself. He dropped down in the seat behind Tweek and grinned at them.

"What did you do?" Kyle asked. At the other three's confused looks, he nodded at Tweek and said, "Fatass was being a douche."

"I told him that there was buried treasure out behind the cafeteria," Kenny said, sliding down in his chair and sticking his feet in the aisle. He shook his head and laughed scornfully. "Stupid dumbass."

"When he gets detention for missing class, _and_ winds up empty-handed, he's going to want to kill you," said Token, but he was laughing. Cartman would do anything if treasure was involved.

"He can go ahead and try. I'll just come back and kill him anyway," Kenny said. "At least we'll be able to enjoy English class in peace today." He winked at his friends.

Clyde straightened up in his chair, his eyes going to the door. Token noticed first, and followed the brunet's stare. Craig was standing in the doorway, eyes scanning the room. His gaze lingered on Tweek, but then he moved to where Butters was sitting, behind what would usually be Cartman's seat. He sat down in front of Butters, and caught Clyde's eye. Clyde looked from him to Tweek and back again, and Craig shook his head slightly. _Not now._ He faced forward, ignoring Butters' enthusiastic, "Well, hey, there, Craig!" Thomas was the next one to come through the door. He looked from Craig, on one side of the room, to Tweek, on the other. One hand holding his backpack, the other covering his mouth, he hurried to a seat in the middle of the room at the back.

When everyone (minus Cartman) had arrived, Mr. Garrison said, "Okay, today we're going to be discussing what happens when you read To Kill A Mockingbird backwards while holding it up to a mirror. You—" He was interrupted by the crackling of the intercom.

"Would the following students please go to room 204 for an emergency meeting?" Bebe's voice floated down from the speakers. She and some of the other girls had managed to weasel their ways into working in the office in the mornings, instead of going to class. They got extra-credit for it, so it all balanced out in the end, except for the fact that they weren't learning anything. Though, in Bebe's case, it was doubtful she would have learned anything sitting in class anyway. "Kenny McCormick, Clyde Donovan, Butters Stotch, Tweek Tweak—" Tweek's head came up off his arms and he stared wide-eyed up at the intercom as if it would tell him what he had done to get called to an _emergency_ meeting. "—Stan Marsh, Craig Nommel, Kyle Broflovski, and Token Black. To room 204. Thank you!"

Stan looked at Token and mouthed, _Butters?_ Token shrugged.

Mr. Garrison sighed at the interruption, but waved them all away. Craig was the last one to leave the classroom, and he hung back from the rest of the summoned. He watched Tweek shake and shiver his way down the hallway and he wanted nothing more than to be beside him, but he had to wait, he had to pick his moment. He didn't want to talk to Tweek in front of everyone. He wanted a private conversation with his blond, where he could explain himself.

The door to room 204 was closed when they got there, and in typical high school student fashion, seven out of the eight teens gathered in the hallway refused to be brave enough to open it. Naturally, it was Craig who finally pushed his way to the front of the group, determinedly _not_ looking at Tweek, and pulled the door open. Clyde nudged Tweek ahead of him, into the room behind Craig.

Craig was inside for about three seconds before he realized the room was pitch-black. He heard the door click shut behind him and he instinctively stepped backwards, running into someone.

"Jesus!" Tweek blurted out as Craig backed into him. Oh, God, he was so _close_. Tweek couldn't see him because it was so dark in the room but he could feel the heat from Craig's body radiating off the other boy, he was _that_ close to him. It was so dark, why was it so dark, where was the light? Tweek frantically reached behind him, looking for the light switch. His hand hit the wall, hard, and he squeaked in pain, sinking to his knees and rocking back and forth. He didn't like the dark; there were _things_ in the dark. He lost himself in his paranoid thoughts of all the things that could be lurking in the darkness that wanted to kill him. All he could hear was his own brain, telling him that there were _gnomes_ in that room, but _evil_ gnomes, and they didn't just want his underpants, they wanted _him_.

Craig lurched forward and found the doorknob. He turned it and pulled, but nothing happened. He tried pushing, with the same result. With both fists he hammered on the door and yelled, "Hey! Open the door!"

And then a voice that was unmistakeably Kenny's said from the other side, "No. We're not letting you out until you talk to him."

Craig heard the jingling of keys, and then Butters say, "So, so there _isn't_ a secret meeting?"

He thought about pounding on the door again, but decided it would be pointless. He could threaten to beat the shit out of all of them, but maybe they'd done him a favour. After all, he was, now, in a room with Tweek, alone. This was his perfect opportunity. He would have preferred to do it _his_ way, but he'd done everything else his way, and just fucked it all up. Maybe this was better. He ran his hand along the wall until he found the lightswitch, and flicked on the light.

Tweek blinked at the brightness as the fluorescent lighting bathed the room. He took a few shuddering breaths and checked to make sure there were no signs of anything trying to _get_ him. Seeing nothing, he stood, unsteadily, looked up, and nearly fell over again as he saw Craig in front of him. The black-haired boy was staring past Tweek so intensely, the blond just had to turn and see what had Craig so captivated.

Written on the chalkboard in large capital letters, were the words:

CRAIG + TWEEK  
EQUALS  
LOVE

Tweek's stomach flipped, and he thought of Craig's black T-shirt, which was at that moment carefully stowed in his backpack. He twitched, grabbing onto one of the desks to keep from collapsing. Oh, God, oh Jesus, he was in a room with Craig alone, and _that_ was written on the board, Jesus, what was going on, what was he supposed to _do_ , oh, God, he wanted to run, he wanted to get out, he couldn't take being around him and not being able to be _with_ him, but his legs wouldn't move; he was frozen, staring at the words on the board. Tears filled his eyes. Who would _do_ that, who would write something that had already been proven wrong—?

Craig coughed, like he was about to say something, and Tweek, gripping the desk with both hands, turned on shaky legs to face him. Craig was leaning against the wall, his hands in the pockets of his jeans. His gaze met Tweek's, and the blond couldn't hold back any longer; the tears started to fall.

Craig pushed himself off the wall and was at Tweek's side in less than a second. He ran a hand through Tweek's messy blond hair, letting it come to rest on his shoulder, and said, softly, "Tweeker... I need to talk to you."


	13. Chapter 13

"Tweeker, look at me." Craig held Tweek by the shoulders, doing his best to keep the convulsing blond steady. Tweek's eyes were closed—though that did little to slow the tears—and he was shaking his head, mumbling to himself so quickly it was impossible to understand his words. His emotions, on the other hand, were perfectly clear, and it made Craig sick to his stomach to see exactly what he'd done. How could he have ever left Tweek? How could he have ever decided that it was the right thing to do...? _Fuck_ , he was such an _asshole_.

"Come on, please, Tweeker." He heard his voice break and fought to keep some degree of control over himself. Panic was threatening to take over. Half of Craig wanted to run, to scream at the top of his lungs for the other guys to _fucking let him out_ and throw himself against the door until he knocked himself unconscious; the other half knew he had to stay, had to deal with this, or else he would regret it for the rest of his life. He leaned forward; pressing his forehead to Tweek's, he whispered, "Please, look at me."

Tweek lifted his head, a sob escaping him as he looked at the other boy. Craig let out an involuntary gasp as he saw the misery and fear in Tweek's eyes. There was absolutely no happiness there. The trembling blond looked so small and scared, so _broken,_ that Craig didn't think twice about it; he pulled Tweek into a hug, wrapping his arms around his skinny body. With another loud sob, Tweek clung to Craig, burying his face in Craig's shoulder. Craig held the blond tightly, and it was then, for the first time, in almost forever, he cried. All his guilt, all his regrets, all his misery burst out of him as he let wave after wave of tears come, weeping into Tweek's blond hair.

"I'm sorry, Tweeker," he said raggedly between sobs. "I'm so sorry."

... ... ...

Out in the hallway, Kenny and Clyde had their ears pressed to the door. Stan, Kyle, and Token were sitting on the hall floor, eagerly awaiting news of what they heard from inside. Craig had only hammered on the door once, and they took that as a good sign; or at least, as a sign that they wouldn't be severely injured once they did let him out. They'd sent Butters back to class with the message that the rest of them wouldn't be returning, because they had special errands to run for the government. Butters' eyes had widened, and after Stan had told him that yeah, of course they would get the president's autograph for him, he'd happily trotted back to English. They were all still unclear as to how exactly Butters' name had wound up being called over the intercom in the first place.

"Holy shit," Kenny said, raising his head and looking over at the other guys. Clyde did the same thing. Both Kenny and Clyde's eyes were wide with amazement.

"What? What's happening?" Kyle looked between the two of them.

"Craig's... _crying_ ," Clyde said in a hushed voice.

" _What_?" Token jumped up from the floor and nearly tripped over his own feet in his hurry to get to the door. After listening for a second, he backed away, the same expression of utter shock on his face. "Jesus _Christ_ , he _is_!"

... ... ...

_OhGodohJesusisthisreal?PleaseletthisberealohGod..._ Tweek was hanging on to Craig like he would die if he let go. His throat hurt and he couldn't stop crying but he didn't care. All that mattered was that Craig was here, that Craig was holding him. Tweek shuddered and felt the other boy's grip on him tighten.

"I'm so sorry," he heard Craig say, his voice cracking. "God, Tweeker, I'm sorry."

Tweek couldn't answer. He pressed himself closer to Craig, wanting to stay there forever. Oh, God, he loved him so much.

"I was fucking stupid. God." Craig loosened his hold on Tweek and the blond's head jerked up, his eyes wide with fear. Was he leaving? No, he couldn't leave now, not now... Tweek whimpered, and Craig's gaze met his. The black-haired boy's face was red and streaked with tears, and he looked as emotionally messed up as Tweek felt.

"I love you, Tweeker, so much," Craig said, keeping Tweek close to him with one arm, using the other to swipe at his face—in vain, since the tears kept falling. "Fuck, you mean the fucking world to me, and I'm sorry I was such an asshole. I don't want to lose you, Tweeker, ever, ever again."

"I love – you," Tweek whispered dazedly, letting out a tiny hiccup. He felt like he was dreaming, oh, God, maybe he _was_ dreaming. Maybe this was all in his head and he was going to wake up any minute, all alone in his room...

"Please give me another chance, I swear I won't hurt you again. I – I need you, Tweeker, please..." Craig knew he was begging, knew he sounded like a pussy, like a _girl_ , but he didn't give a flying _fuck_. If he lost Tweek now, because of his own fucking stupidity... No. No, he couldn't. He needed him more than he needed anything in his _life_. Without Tweek...nothing else mattered.

... ... ...

"What's going on now?" Stan and Kyle asked the question in unison. They looked at each other and laughed. Kenny and Clyde had been joined by Token, all three of them straining to hear Craig's quiet voice.

"Shh!" Kenny waved them away, crushing the side of his head against the door so hard it sent a wave of pain through his black eye. "Fuck, _ow_!" He winced, covering his eye with his hand.

"I think Craig just told Tweek he needed him," said Token, his face screwed up in concentration.

"Christ, he really does love him," Clyde said, sticking his thumb in his mouth and gnawing away at the nail. "I've never heard him say he needs _anybody_."

"They're meant to be together," Kyle said. "Of course he needs him." He shot a glance at Kenny and smiled shyly. "That's how true love works."

... ... ...

_"I need you."_

Tweek struggled to process what he'd just heard. Craig needed him. That was what he'd said, right? He stared up at Craig, shaking. Hope filled his eyes, and he prayed that he had heard those words.

Craig searched Tweek's eyes for some sign that the blond boy would forgive him. _Please,_ he thought desperately. _Please, Tweeker, I'm so sorry..._

"I – need you – too." Tweek took a deep, shuddering breath and tried his hardest to slow his crying. "It's been s—so hard."

Craig's heart broke for his blond and he again cursed himself for being the douchebag who hurt him so badly. "I know..."

"I don't – want – I don't want to be – _broken_." Tweek sniffled.

"I know," Craig said again, noticing that he, too, was shaking. "I promise, Tweeker, I'm not going anywhere. I promise. We're meant to be together, forever, _we're_ forever." He looked up at the chalkboard, and quietly read the words out loud. "Craig plus Tweek equals love..."

... ... ...

"You guys, I think it's working," Clyde said, a smile spreading across his face.

"This was such a good idea," said Stan proudly. "If I do say so myself."

"And you do," Kyle said, rolling his eyes.

"Hey, it's not my fault I'm awesome."

"Guys, shut up!" Token hissed. He was flattened against the door, waiting to hear Tweek's response.

... ... ...

"Promise...?" Tweek's voice was small, barely a squeak.

"I promise." _Please..._ Craig thought again.

"'Kay." It was a whisper, but Craig heard it as clearly as if Tweek had shouted. He leaned down, pressing his lips against Tweek's. Holding the shaking blond tightly, he vowed to never, _ever_ let him go, ever again. Fuck being afraid, this was worth it, _Tweek_ was worth it.

They stayed entwined together for what seemed like hours, until Tweek pulled away, just for a second, to say, "I love y—you..."

"I love you too, Tweeker," Craig said softly.

_So much._


	14. Chapter 14

" _Yes_!" Kenny let out a loud cheer and launched himself at Kyle, hugging him happily. "We did it!"

"I can't believe he _cried_." Token shook his head, still in awe.

"I know, man." Clyde leaned against the wall beside the door of the room, hooking his thumbs in the pockets of his jeans. "He didn't even cry when Stripe died, and he loved that thing."

"Well, obviously Tweek means more to him than a guinea pig," said Kyle. He was holding Kenny's hand, their fingers entwined, and Kenny's arm was draped over Kyle's shoulders. "I guess we should let them out now." Letting go of Kenny's hand, he reached into the pocket of his jeans and fished out the keys to the room. He tossed the keys to Clyde, who proceeded to unlock the door.

Tweek and Craig had just pulled away from each other again when the door opened. Clyde stuck his head through the doorway, grinning as he saw them—Craig's arms wrapped around Tweek protectively, the blond's expression one of pure contentment. It looked so natural; they just fit together, like metal and guitar solos.

"Okay, you can come out now."

At Clyde's words, Tweek let out a, "Ghh!" of surprise and Craig's head snapped around to look at whoever had spoken. He let go of Tweek, but grabbed the blond's hand loosely, pulling him along behind him as he moved towards the door. Clyde retreated, suddenly worried that even though everything had worked out, Craig was still going to severely injure him, or all of them, for locking him in. The brunet hid behind Kenny and Kyle as Craig appeared in the doorway, Tweek peeking nervously over the other boy's shoulder. Clyde's hopes to be unseen, though, were shattered as Kenny very conspicuously started humming "Here Comes The Bride".

Craig's gaze went immediately to Kenny, and he came forward to stand in front of the blond. Tweek followed, shivering. Kenny stopped humming and, gesturing to his black eye, he shrugged, in a _what-are-you-gonna-do-now_ kind of way. Craig nodded once, and Clyde, sensing no immediate danger, moved to stand beside Kyle, not behind him.

"So..." Craig said. His eyes moved around the group, coming to rest again on Kenny. He smirked, just a little, and said, "Nice eye."

"Yeah, well," Kenny grinned. "You should've seen the other guy. He knows not to mess with _me_ again."

Craig rolled his eyes, but not in a douchey-asshole way. Neither he nor Kenny was the type to apologize for injuring the other, especially if they'd had valid reasons for doing it at the time.

"Just be careful," Kyle said, looking up at Kenny worriedly. "I don't want you to die all the time."

Kenny ruffled the redhead's hair. "Don't worry," he said, making a fist with one hand. "I'm tough."

"So now what happens?" Token asked. "I mean, we don't really have any reason for being here anymore."

"Let's go hang outside for an hour," suggested Stan, with a glance at Craig and Tweek.

"Outside?! But, but we can't – we can't _skip_!" Tweek blurted out, horrified. He twitched to the left, stumbled, and then, when he tried to regain his balance, tipped over the other way. Craig managed to catch him before he hit the floor, grabbing him around the waist with one arm. Kyle, Kenny, Stan, Clyde, and Token all exchanged the same look, each one of them grinning. Yeah, Tweek was back to normal.

"Well, we don't have to go back to class. We got Butters to say that we were helping the government with something super secret," Stan said. "So we won't get in trouble. And anyway, this all took way less time than we were expecting it to."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Craig gave Stan a half-hearted glare, but he couldn't even pretend he'd taken offense at the words.

"That you're stubborn?" Token offered. Craig just flipped him off, and his friend simply shook his head and started to head toward the nearest door, followed by Stan, Kyle, and Kenny. Clyde stayed back to walk with Craig and Tweek. Nobody said a word until they were outside.

"Hey, Tweeker," said Craig. "I need to talk to Clyde for a minute; we'll catch up, okay?"

"Ngh! 'Kay." Tweek held on to Craig's hand for a second longer, and then hurried to join the other guys as they wandered in the direction of the field behind the cafeteria. Clyde glanced at Craig curiously out of the corner of his eye, but it was another few seconds before the other boy spoke.

"Locking us in there..." Craig started. "That your idea?"

"Stan's, actually. He was—we were all—kind of worried that you weren't actually... That you were going to..." Clyde searched for the safest possible way to tell Craig that they'd all been afraid he was going to stick with being an asshole because it was easy.

"That I wasn't going to talk to him?"

Clyde looked at Craig, whose eyes were following Tweek. They were walking slowly. The other guys had gotten a fair distance ahead of them, but Tweek's jitters were still clearly noticeable, as he tripped and wobbled his way across the grass. Craig was watching him, a faint smile on his face, a smile that said _yeah-he's-mine-and-I-love-him_.

"Well...yeah," Clyde admitted.

Craig punched Clyde's shoulder lightly, shooting the brunet a slightly-amused look. "Douche."

"Fag," Clyde retorted, giving Craig a little shove.

"And don't you forget it," Craig said, refocusing his gaze on his blond. Clyde just shook his head and smiled. This was the way it was supposed to be.

... ... ...

Tweek tripped over thin air for about the eighth time, lurching forward and nearly landing on his face. Somehow, he managed to keep his balance. "Jesus!" he yelped, wishing he had coffee. God, he needed coffee right now, but his travel mug was in the classroom and not _here_ , they were outside and there was no coffee outside, oh Jesus... He cast a look behind him longingly, at the school, thinking about the caffeinated beverage inside just going to waste, and caught sight of Craig walking with Clyde. All it took was that half-a-second glimpse of Craig, far behind him and the others, and Tweek forgot his desperate need for coffee. He couldn't believe he had his Craig back. When he'd gotten to school that morning he was sure things were over for good, and it killed him inside.

But in that classroom...Craig had cried; no, not cried, _sobbed_ , and told Tweek over and over again how sorry he was. He'd been so unlike Craig, in that room. He'd seemed so... _afraid_ that Tweek was going to completely reject him. But Tweek knew that it wouldn't matter if it had been two days or two years, he would never, _could_ never, say no to Craig. The black-haired boy had had nothing to worry about. Tweek still didn't know who had written that message on the chalkboard—Kyle, Kenny, Stan, Clyde, or Token—but he would be forever grateful to all of them, for being there for him when he was miserable and for doing everything they did to help him and Craig get back together. There weren't better friends out there than those guys.

"Oh, shit."

Tweek looked up and saw that Kenny had stopped suddenly. He followed Kenny's stare, along with Kyle, Stan, Token, and Clyde.

Cartman was out behind the cafeteria, about fifty feet away from them, covered from head to toe in dirt. He'd obviously been digging, since there were about fifteen holes and giant piles of dirt around him. He was holding a shovel and glaring at Kenny like he was going to kill him so dead it would take at least a week for him to come back.

"Kenny you poor son of a bitch!" he yelled, charging at Kenny, shovel held high. Tweek was frozen with fear. Oh God, he didn't want to witness a _murder_ , especially not the murder of one of his _friends_ , oh _Jesus_! A sudden spasm made him stumble backwards and fall, landing hard on his side on the grass. "Grg!" he squeaked as he hit the ground.

"Isn't that Christophe's shovel?" Kenny asked, ducking out of the way as Cartman swung the weapon at him. "He's going to kill you when he finds out you touched his stuff."

"I was going to give him some goddamn treasure!" Cartman swung the shovel again and Kenny caught it in midair, each one of them struggling to take it from the other. "You told me there was treasure out here!"

"God, Cartman, you're such a retard," Token said. He, Stan, and Kyle were standing on the opposite side of the fight from Tweek , who was trying to shrink into the grass. It looked like Kyle was trying to stop himself from jumping into the fray and trying to kick the shit out of Cartman himself, just to keep him from hurting Kenny.

"This asshole lied to me!" Cartman bellowed, wrenching the shovel away from Kenny. "You poor people are all the same, you're all a bunch of dirty _liars_!" He hurled the shovel at Kenny, who couldn't duck in time. The metal edge hit Kenny's arm, slicing it open, and the shovel fell to the ground. Kyle was at his side instantly, yanking his green T-shirt over his head and using it to wrap around Kenny's now-bloody arm.

"Jesus Christ!" Stan stared at Cartman. "Cartman, what the fuck?"

Tweek whimpered from where he lay on the grass. Oh, God, Jesus, there was blood, he really, _really_ didn't like blood, oh God, Kenny was going to bleed to death, and that was _Christophe_ 's shovel, it was so old and rusted, Kenny was going to get tetanus and _then_ die, oh God, and Tweek was going to watch him die, right here, right now...

Cartman heard his whimper, and turned to him, ignoring Stan. He smiled that same evil smile he'd had earlier, and said, "What do we have here?"

"Fuck off, Cartman, leave him alone," said Token angrily, but Cartman ignored him too. He took a step closer to Tweek.

"We have some unfinished business, you and me," he said.

Tweek shut his eyes, shaking. Cartman scared him so much, more than the gnomes, and Kenny had saved him this morning but Kenny was dying, not five feet away from him, oh Jesus, nobody could help him, not when Cartman was _right there_.

"You see," Cartman was saying. "We'd been having a discussion about why your fag _boyfriend_ left your fag ass. Do you remember that?" He didn't wait for an answer. "See, the way I see it, he got sick of having to save you all the time, because you're too much of a pussy to stand up for yourself. " He leaned down, getting right into Tweek's face, and said, "Well, he's not here to save you now, is he?"

Tears filled Tweek's eyes and, shaking violently with fear, he opened his mouth to say something, _anything_ to try to get Cartman to leave him alone, but before he could say anything, he heard Craig's voice.

"Yeah, he is."

Cartman's face went from evil to confused to _oh-fuck_. He straightened up and started to turn around, but within three seconds Craig had kicked him in the nuts and slammed a fist into his eye. Cartman went down hard, rolling around on the ground and screaming for his mom. Everyone ignored him, except for Clyde, who glanced down and then announced that he was going to go find Christophe and tell him that Cartman had taken his shovel.

"You okay?" Craig asked Tweek, who had managed to scramble to his knees.

Tweek looked from Cartman on the ground to Craig standing above him, and he smiled. Tears fell, but they were happy tears. He nodded. He was okay. He had Craig back. He had everything he needed.

... ... ...

It was amazing, when Tweek thought about it. He was snuggled against Craig on the Tucker's couch, watching something. His life had been shattered and turned upside-down, and then completely fixed, in four days. He'd gone from being a miserable, broken wreck, to the happiest he'd ever been in his life, in four days.

"Four days..." he murmured to himself.

"Hm?" Craig looked down at him.

"Nothing." Tweek twitched a little and Craig's arm tightened around him. "I'm just...happy."

Craig smiled, leaning down and kissing Tweek's forehead. "Me too."

Tweek rested his head on Craig's chest. He could hear the other boy's heartbeat. The rhythmic _thud-thud, thud-thud_ made Tweek feel _so_ tired...

"I love you, Tweeker," he heard Craig say.

"I love you too," he mumbled sleepily, fighting to stay awake, not wanting to miss a second of being with Craig.

"Sleepy?"Craig asked.

Tweek nodded. There was a sudden silence; Craig had turned off the movie. He stood, pulling Tweek off the couch with him. "Come on," he said. "If you're going to sleep, we're going upstairs. My bed is more comfortable than this couch."

Craig kept his arm around Tweek's shoulders, guiding him up the stairs and down the hall to his room. Without bothering to change out of their clothes, both boys slid under the covers, Craig on his side, Tweek safely enclosed in his arms. Tweek was sound asleep in minutes; he really had been exhausted. It took Craig a little longer, but soon he was snoring softly.

_Craig + Tweek equals love..._

When Craig's alarm went off at seven AM the next morning, he awoke to find himself and Tweek in the exact same positions they'd gone to bed in. He hadn't let go of the blond all night. He hit the snooze button before his alarm woke up Tweek, and settled down for another ten minutes, smiling to himself. Nothing could separate them anymore. Not even sleep.


End file.
